Like A Movie
by Marci
Summary: -Chapter Sixteen-New- BV The whole gang is in highschool, except for Bulma who has been gone for 4 years. While away she becomes a moviestar. How will her and Vegeta come back together? RR (Minor revisions-and I'm dedicated now)
1. They See Her

Well, now that I've finished the "Green Dragon" stories, I think I can draw my attention back to this one. I neglected it for months, but after re-reading what I had I decided to give it another shot. I think there's some potential in this story, I just need to revise a lot and work on it. I'll have this fic and one other (Origin of the Androids—check it out!!) to work on, so there will be plenty of Marci work! Heehee! Who knows, maybe this story will bomb completely…or maybe it'll be as successful as the "Neighbor Boy" series and the "Green Dragon" series. I just hope that people read and review, and like it of course.  
  
Now on with the show!  
  
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A young girl with long raven black hair scurried down the hall, desperately trying to make it to class before the late bell rang. She'd already been late to class twice that week. One more time and she would get detention for sure. She turned the corner and dove into her science class just as the bell rang. The teacher looked up at her and scowled. "Miss Mau, you were almost late…again," he scolded, tapping his pen on the desk in annoyance.  
  
"Sorry Mr. Kuroki," she half cried, running to her seat. She was the type of girl who always had her work done on time, and was almost always early for class. It wasn't her fault that the past few days had been total chaos. That, and other obstacles. "It won't happen again."  
  
"That's what you said last time. Just try and get here on time."  
  
"Of course, sir. Sorry again." She hung her head in shame, shrinking down in her chair.  
  
"Hey Chi," whispered a voice behind her. "What's going on?" She turned to her longtime boyfriend Goku Son, sadness evident in her eyes.  
  
"It was Vegeta, that jerk," she whined, trying her hardest not to let the tears that were brimming in her eyes out. She wasn't one to cry in public, or so easily, but, if under stress, she could wail like a baby. "We were in study hall, and I was helping him with math. He wouldn't let me leave until he was done. He did it on purpose too. 'Cause I had told him that I couldn't be late and he smiled. Uh, Goku! I don't see how you can be friends with that moron!" she yelled in a hushed tone, though not going unnoticed by the teacher.  
  
"Miss Mau! Mr. Son!" Both students faced Mr. Kuroki immediately, faces flushed of all color. "Would you mind telling me what on Kami's green earth is more important than the periodic table of elements!?"  
  
"Everything," a masculine voice laughed from the doorway. The class came to life with laughter as Vegeta entered the room, late as usual, and with a smartass remark to get him in even more troubled. And he loved doing it. He'd push teachers just so far for the hell of it. He didn't care if he got in trouble. It was all fine with him. He usually skipped detention anyway. No one, not even his closest friends, knew what made him tick. He was a sealed box, the key long gone in the abyss of his broken childhood.  
  
"Mr. Ouji! Late again!!" the teacher yelled as he made his way across the room to his seat, next to Goku. "Don't even bother sitting down! Its straight to Mrs. Oishi's with you!" He scribbled down something on a yellow slip of paper and held it in the air for Vegeta to come claim it.  
  
"Fine with me. I hate this damn class," he huffed, snatching the paper and left the room.  
  
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"Hey Chi-Chi!!" a tall girl with short blonde hair yelled as she ran down the hall towards her friend.  
  
"What's up 18?" Chi-Chi asked, a confused look on her face. "Damn, did you just run a marathon or something?"  
  
"Ha…Very…funny…" she managed between huge labored breaths. "Guess…what??" Chi-Chi only gave her a blank look, then shrugged her shoulders. "Re…member-"  
  
"Catch your breath first 18. Sheesh." 18 only glared at her, but did as she was told. A few moments later her breathing was back to normal, and by then Vegeta, Goku, and her boyfriend Krillin had joined them in the hall outside the cafeteria.  
  
"Ok," she sighed, taking one last deep breath. "Do you guys remember Bulma Briefs?"  
  
"Remember!?" Chi-Chi squealed. "How could I forget her!? She was my best friend up until eighth grade when she moved away!"  
  
"Kakarot! Make your wench's screeching stop," Vegeta groaned, covering his ears with his palms. Chi-Chi only glared at him, then turned to 18 with a hopefully look on her face.  
  
"Well…Do you remember where she moved?" 18 continued.  
  
"Yeah…Wasn't it Watanabe City? Her dad moved his company way out there for better business or something," Krillin stated, only half remembering the blue haired girl. He'd been new to that district just the year before she'd moved.  
  
"Exactly. Do you guys know what Watanabe City is known for?" They all stared blankly at her for an answer. "It's the superstar capital of Japan!!" she squealed happily, though her friends' expressions didn't change much. If anything they were mildly shocked at their usually mellow friend's behavior. 18 Gero did NOT "squeal".  
  
"What are you trying to tell us?" Vegeta demanded, getting rather annoyed with her slow pace. What was with her? he thought. She was acting normally that morning.  
  
"I'm telling you that while she was there someone must have discovered her, 'cause now she's a movie star!!" 18 held up a movie flyer, Bulma's face clearly depicted in brilliant colors. She looked older, but it was definitely her. Even if she was to dye her hair, her eyes were unmistakenable. Anyone who had ever come in contact with Bulma was left with a certain impression.  
  
They all gasped aloud, aside from Vegeta who was still glaring, acting as though the image of her face didn't affect him in the least, when in fact he was probably the one who cared the most. He'd fallen for the blue haired beauty early on. In fact, he'd planned on asking her out the very same week she announced she was leaving, but opted not to because of distance. Since then he tried to block out all memories and thoughts of her, though he knew he'd never forget her. Or forgive her for that matter. And eventually, over the years, he grew to love her, her absence only made his heart beat for her more. He never admitted this to himself though, and definitely to no one else, but he knew deep down how he felt. It was always there, nagging at him, silently driving him mad. Once he became so desperate to see her that he hopped a bus to Watanabe City. He made it there, but got right back on the bus and came home. He really beat himself up for that one. He'd blamed it on temporary insanity, worked out for hours on end, then swore to never think of her again. He of course did think of her and ended up passing out from over exertion.  
  
"Wow." Goku was the first to speak, snapping Vegeta out of his trance. He grabbed the poster from 18's hands for a closer inspection. "I would have never thought of her as an actress. She had the worst case of stage fright back in eighth grade."  
  
"That's what I thought when I saw this. I didn't believe it was her at first. But it was kind of hard to ignore her name in bold print," 18 said, grabbing the poster back from Goku. "I know the movie looks really dumb, but what do you say we go and see it? Just to see how good she is, you know?" They all nodded their heads in agreement, save Vegeta of course, who was shaking his head no. It was one thing to think of her, to see pictures of her from time to time, but to see her in motion? To hear words pass her lips? Even the idea of the illusion sent angry shivers down his spine.  
  
"I'm not going to subject myself to some ridiculously mushy movie just to see that wench," Vegeta huffed, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly.  
  
"Oh come on Vegeta," Goku pleaded, being the only one who'd known about his crush on Bulma, though Vegeta denied it through and through. "It won't be that bad. I promise." He smiled dumbly at his angry friend, giving him a moment to answer before he said anything more. "I'll pay for your ticket."  
  
"Right, because I'm starving for money," he scoffed. "Why do you guys want to see her anyway? She has a new life, and you're not a part of it. I'm sure 18 agrees with me when I say she probably doesn't even remember us." With that Vegeta turned and trudged into the cafeteria, unaware of the pain he'd just delivered 18. Right now what he needed was peace, an escape from the rift Bulma's face had caused. He soon found, however, that peace was not in the cafeteria. The whole room was in an uproar, flyers with Bulma's face all over the floor and in people's hands. He tried to ignore all the excess noise, but could no longer when he passed the person he despised the most.  
  
"Yeah and I dated her," Yamcha bragged, pointing to Bulma's picture for a group of hooting football players. How he even got Bulma to look at him was a puzzle to everyone, especially Yamcha himself. He couldn't have been more lucky.  
  
"And now you can say you got dumped by a movie star," Vegeta sneered angrily, unable to control his anger. It was in his character to hide feelings such as love, but Vegeta was known for his devotion to his friends, even if he did show them as much respect as if they were flees. When it came down to it, he was there for them when they needed him most. Even Chi-Chi, who complained about him constantly, had been on the receiving end of his help. Last year, just before the end of their junior year, Vegeta found her crying in an empty classroom. After only minimal persuasion, she confessed that she was late for her period and might be pregnant. He convinced her to confront Goku. Thankfully she wasn't pregnant, and the memory of his kindness has never left her, though she cannot ignore his day-to-day rudeness.  
  
This kindness, of course, only applied to those he trusted; his closet friends, Goku, Krillin, 17, 18, and, most recently, Chi-Chi. It had applied to Bulma in the past, but as time wore on anger took control. If he had anything to do with it, she would never lay eyes on him again.  
  
"At least I had her Vegeta. I can understand why you'd be jealous," Yamcha retorted, knowing that the comment would set him off. He may have been a womanizing jerk, but he knew admiration when he saw it, and it had been in Vegeta's every move when Bulma was still around.  
  
"Like I'd want a wench like her," Vegeta hand offhandedly. Yamcha looked to Goku who was trying his hardest not to blow Vegeta's cover and smile.  
  
"Sure thing Veg-head," he said with a huge grin, turning back to his cronies to brag some more. Goku couldn't help but chuckle a little, receiving an angry glare from Vegeta, followed by a slap to the back of the head.  
  
"Hey! What was that for?" Goku whined, holding his head and pouting his bottom lip out.  
  
"For being you," Vegeta growled, then stalked over to the lunch line. Food was exactly what he needed to calm his nerves.  
  
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"Father!" a blue haired girl yelled, as she stomped into the immaculate lab, an argument at the tip of her tongue.  
  
"Bulma dear, what's wrong?" Dr. Briefs asked in his usual tone, knowing there was no real emergency.  
  
"I'm sick of this place! And that jerk, Yutaka!" She was nearly to tears with anger.  
  
"Well dear, he's your agent. He's only doing his job."  
  
"Well he's not giving me any time for me! I JUST finished filming "Beautiful Dead" and already he's got me scheduled for filming another movie next week! I can't take much more of this," she whined, picking up the closest thing to her and throwing it across the room. Luckily it was only an empty beaker.  
  
"Hey! Watch it honey! I'm working in here." She only glared angrily at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why not go visit some friends 'til filming starts?"  
  
"Like who? Shoko? Mizuki? Saya! Umeka!" she screamed. "They're only friends with me because of who I am! Uh! I hate it here! Why did we have to move? I loved Satan City and my old friends…" Her father thought a moment, scratching his forehead. Then he smiled, that knowing smile he always had when working on a project, a smile that meant nothing bad could happen, that everything was perfect and would stay perfect.  
  
"Well…Why not go visit them?" he suggested, wondering absently why the thought had never occurred to him before. Surely Bulma had wanted to see her childhood friends. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that she had never made an attempt to go back. She'd written letters, he knew that, but actually go back? Not once had she brought it up. But then again, her booming career to stardom had come so quickly after the move. She hadn't had time in those first few years. And then…He didn't want to think about it now. It was over. "Take as long as you wish," he said after a moment. Yes, it was time for a break. "If Yutaka calls I'll tell him you're ill."  
  
"Oh dad! You're the best!" she squealed, running over and hugging him tightly. She gave him a great daughterly kiss on the cheek for good measure. "I'll call you when I get there! Bye!" Before waiting for a reply she was out the door, heading for her room to pack. She didn't even consider the consequences of her spur of the moment trip. A million and one thoughts rushed through her mind, all of which filled her with a happiness she hadn't known since living in Satan City. It never occurred to her that they might be angry…  
  
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"Hey Vegeta!" 18 called as she entered the Spanish room. He only grunted at her in response, too caught up in his own thoughts to really do much else. "Hello in there." She knocked on his head a few times, gaining his attention.  
  
"Stop that woman," he hissed, grabbing his head with one hand and pushing her away with the other. "Kami!"  
  
"What were you thinking about?" she teased, elbowing him in the side.  
  
"Nothing," he snapped, turning his back to her. "And what's gotten into you? If you keep grinning like that I'll start calling you Kakarot."  
  
"You're lying," she said, ignoring his insult. "I know you too well." He turned his head around to face her, giving her the best dirty look he could muster, then turned back around just as the teacher entered the room.  
  
"Hola class!"  
  
Vegeta stopped listening, drowning her out as usual. He'd taken a particular hatred to this class, though his grades would suggest otherwise. Back in grade and middle school he'd always been a slacker, not caring about his grades and never doing his work. He almost failed several grades, just passing by mere fractions of points. Then one year it all turned around. He did his work, got good grades, and was now well on his way to a full scholarship at one of the best, and therefore hardest, colleges in the country. No one could quite understand how he could suddenly become so smart all at once. In truth, he'd always had the brain and the potential for such grades, but just didn't bother putting his mind to work. After Bulma left he became so angry, that he focused all his energy on his work, when he wasn't pushing his body to its limits, that is. He became more intelligent, or seemed to become that way, and more muscular than before, though his attitude never changed.  
  
"Mr. Ouji!" the teacher yelled, snapping her fingers in his face. "Mr. Ouji! Are you there?" Vegeta blinked his eyes twice, then looked at the teacher who was only inches from his face.  
  
"What?" he hissed, not caring that he'd already seen the principal once that day. What was another detention?  
  
"Excuse me Mr. Ouji! I don't mean to disturb you with my teaching!"  
  
"Just don't let it happen again," he said with a smirk, sending the whole class into a fit of laughter.  
  
"Quiet! All of you!" Immediately they went silent, aside from Vegeta who continued to chuckle. "Mr. Ou-"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I know. To Mrs. Oishi's," he grumbled, standing up and exiting the room calmly.  
  
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"Wow, I can't wait to see this movie," Chi-Chi sighed, resting her head on her fist. "I've missed Bulma so much."  
  
"Its not like you're actually going to see her," Krillin butted in, shattering Chi-Chi's good mood.  
  
"Pipe down cue ball," she hissed, slamming her book over his head.  
  
"Kuso! What was that for?" He rubbed his head dramatically; she never hit him hard.  
  
"Hey Cheech, calm down. He does have a point you know," Goku added in his friend's defense. All Chi-Chi had to do was lift her book, and Goku backed off. "Sorry hun." He kissed her cheek lovingly, then settled back in his seat.  
  
"You know you guys." They both turned to her. "We could take a bus out to Watanabe City and go visit her. It'll be-"  
  
"Ha!" a squeaky feminine voice cut her off. "Like she'd waste her time with the likes of you! Come on Chi-Chi. She's a movie star now. She has movie star friends. I read in a magazine that she's even dating Okura Aida. So, she obviously doesn't have time for nobodies like you," the bleached blonde cheerleader sneered, flicking Chi-Chi's nose with her finger.  
  
"Nomi!" Chi-Chi screamed. "I've known Bulma since I was two years old! She's not a stuck up bitch like you!" She jumped at her, slamming her into the nearby wall, her hands tightly around hr neck. "And further more, she would never date a fake like Okura!" With that she released the shrieking girl from her grasp and watched as she scurried across the floor, not stopping until she reached the other side of the room and let out a deep breath. "Don't test me bitch," she whispered just loud enough for her to hear, then took her seat, ignoring all the stares from everyone else.  
  
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Bulma pulled into town and read the sign she saw aloud, "Welcome to Satan City. Enjoy your stay." She smiled to herself, stepping on the gas to get to the old Capsule Corp building. Once there she found it'd been turned into a retirement home. All the lights were out, aside from the lights shining on the building's sign out front that read: Still Kickin' Retirement Home. "If I know Vegeta, he doesn't like living next door to this place," she said to herself, her smile widening at the thought of her old arrogant friend. Back in Middle School she'd had a huge crush on him, but decided never to act on her feelings because she figured he hated her, and then she moved away. It was as simple as that, or so she led herself to believe.  
  
"I really should visit Chi-Chi first," she thought and was about to pull out of the driveway, when she spotted a familiar jet-black mane behind the wooden fence that separated the two yards. She pulled the car out and onto the curb in front of his house. "Hey 'Geta!" she called to her old friend with his back to her. It was so spontaneous that she didn't realize she'd done it until the words left her mouth.  
  
Vegeta righted himself from the crouched position, a large red ball held at his fingertips. He whipped around at the mention of his old nickname, his eyes almost bulging out of his head when he saw the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. He took a few steps forward, and on closer inspection found it to be Bulma.  
  
"What do you want woman?" he finally managed to say, stomping over to her car. Rage was evident in his eyes. He hadn't changed one bit. But, before she could answer, a tiny black haired girl, no older than three, came running over and clung to Vegeta's leg.  
  
"Vegeta!" she whined. "Gimmie my ball!"  
  
"Here brat," he huffed, throwing the ball towards the front porch. She ran after it, squealing happily.  
  
"Who's that?" Bulma asked, knowing Vegeta was an only child.  
  
"Midori," he said flatly, trying his hardest not to smile or even smirk at the sight of his lost love. Though it wasn't that difficult once the thought of years of pain surfaced.  
  
"She's beautiful. Has your eyes." Must have been a cousin.  
  
"Like I asked before. What do you want?"  
  
"Just visiting. Haven't seen you in a while," she said with a huge grin. In her mind however, she heard her words, saw her happy outward appearance, and wanted to throw herself in the middle of on coming traffic. It was at that moment that the full weight of what she was doing set in. But she couldn't go back now.  
  
"Sure you are. You leave for four years, then come back when you're a huge star. That's perfectly now," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Hey! I had a lot going on. I had to beg just to come here for a few days," she lied, not wanting to get into detail about why she hadn't visited until now. Just being there, in that city, was a miracle in itself. When Yutaka found out, she put money on losing her career. And it didn't matter now that she saw Vegeta's face again, the thought of the others looming in her mind.  
  
"Whatever. Why come see me?" he asked suspiciously. His heart hadn't stopped racing since the moment he saw her face, the real thing, before him. If anyone could see his thoughts, or took his pulse, they'd want him in every big movie. He was a natural "actor".  
  
"Well," she shied her head away, blushing madly. "I…Want to go see a movie? My treat." The moment the words were out in the open, she knew she'd blown it. What was with her? Her mind screamed for her to apologize and run away, go back to her old, new life and sulk until she died. But her legs wouldn't budge and her mouth wouldn't listen. Her subconscious wanted so badly for things to be as they were that it ruled out all ration thinking.  
  
"Sure!" he snorted sarcastically. "I haven't seen you in years, let alone heard from you. Sure! Let's go be all buddy-buddy and see a movie! And then ride unicorns through fields of daisies while we're at it…Fat chance Briefs," he growled, turning and walking back towards the house. "Go see Kakarot's wench. She'd be more than happy to go see a stupid movie." Bulma was shocked at his display of anger, but isn't that what she'd expected? But this was Vegeta, rock hard and coldly emotionless. This was how everyone else should react, not him.  
  
Suddenly the thought of confronting the others sent terror through her entire being. If Vegeta reacted this harshly, how would the others take it?  
  
Before she knew it, she was on the front porch, the doorbell already rung. She couldn't just leave without apologizing. Maybe it wasn't too late to go back; the others didn't have to know that she was ever there.  
  
"Hell-o," came a dumb-founded voice, bringing her from her thoughts. She mustered a smile at the boy who'd answered the door; Vegeta's cousin Taisho, the same age as himself.  
  
"Hey Tai. Can I come in?" Bulma asked in the sweetest voice she could, ignoring the obvious staring on his part.  
  
"A…Sure," he finally managed to say, regaining some composure. "What brings you here?" he asked, trying to be subtle as he shut the door behind her. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her in person.  
  
"I came to see Vegeta, though I got the feeling he's not too happy to see me." Her smile quickly faded into a frown as she followed Taisho into the living room. She wanted to slap herself; she sounded like a complete moron! She was one of the smartest people in the world, and this was difficult for her.  
  
"What makes you say that?" His voice still sounded a bit shaky. He'd seen the flyers for her movie and couldn't believe that an actual movie star was in his house, standing in front of him, even if he had known her all his life.  
  
"Taisho, calm down. I'm the same person you've known since forever." He smiled apologetically at her, casting his eyes away. "Its alright. I've missed you."  
  
"Me too," he said, looking at her again. Had she been this beautiful back then?  
  
"I feel like such an ass, standing here in front of you after so long. You all must hate me for not visiting until now…I really screwed up with Vegeta out there," she sighed, motioning to the front door. "I couldn't have handled the situation any worse."  
  
"To tell you the truth, I don't think there would be any right way to 'handle' Vegeta." Taisho took a calculated breath and smiled. He was strangely comfortable with her.  
  
"Look, I'm never going to get him to talk to me again tonight. Would you maybe want to see that movie with me or grab a quick bite? I could use a good conversation, you know, like old times."  
  
"I'd love to," he said, though his expression was anything but happy.  
  
"But?"  
  
"But I have to stay here and watch Midori. Vegeta locked himself in the basement, and I can't leave her alone. Mom would kill me."  
  
Bulma frowned momentarily, then shrugged. "It's fine. I understand. How is your mother, anyway? And your dad, for that matter."  
  
"They're fine. Dad's on a business trip, and mom's still at work. She should be home in an hour, if you still want to go somewhere." He smiled wide, unable to control his emotions. He hadn't thought of Bulma the way she used to be in years. It had been Bulma The Movie Star for so long that he'd almost forgotten his friendship with her. And now it was so natural. Whatever had kept her from visiting must have been big; he trusted that she would never abandon them on purpose. Vegeta, on the other hand, wasn't so trusting.  
  
"I think that'd be great. I can't wait to hear about what you've been up to."  
  
"A lot," he laughed, all uneasiness completely gone. "I hope you have some time, 'cause I have quite the story to tell."  
  
"I'm all ears, kiddo."  
  
"Kiddo," he repeated, rolling his eyes much like his cousin. "Kami, I never missed that. You're never going to let up on me, are you?" Bulma giggled and shook her head. "I'm only two months younger than you, grandma."  
  
Bulma could only laugh at his come back. It was exactly as she remembered it. But, then again, she never, in her worst nightmares, could have seen Taisho turning his back on her. Even without knowing what had happened in the past four years, he'd welcomed her with open arms. She couldn't imagine what he'd do if he heard her story.  
  
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---Chapter one!! Well, I think that's a sufficient length for a beginning chapter. Much longer than I usually do.  
  
REVIEW!!!!!! (ReviewsMore Chapters)  
  
Next time: Bulma stays the night at the Ouji's (I'll explain why Vegeta's cousins live at his house in time), then visits her other friends in the morning. How will everyone react to her sudden appearance? Will they even talk to her? I dunno…Wait and see!! :P  
  
Note: So, how does this compare to what I had posted earlier? It's not too different, but I think it's much better. I've had a lot of practice since I first posted this fic, so I think its better off this way…What do YOU think? 


	2. Reunited

Last time:  
  
"Kiddo," he repeated, rolling his eyes much like his cousin. "Kami, I never missed that. You're never going to let up on me, are you?" Bulma giggled and shook her head. "I'm only two months younger than you, grandma."  
  
Bulma could only laugh at his come back. It was exactly as she remembered it. But, then again, she never, in her worst nightmares, could have seen Taisho turning his back on her. Even without knowing what had happened in the past four years, he'd welcomed her with open arms. She couldn't imagine what he'd do if he heard her story.  
  
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Bulma awoke the next morning feeling better than she had in years, aside from a dull sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach; Vegeta's doing, of course. But today wasn't for him. Obviously he wasn't ready to speak with her, and she didn't blame him. She was lucky yesterday getting him to say as much as he did.  
  
She yawned deeply, then swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. She glanced at the clock on the wall; 7:36 AM. "Wow, its early," she sighed, dragging her body out of the guestroom and downstairs.  
  
"Good morning Bulma. Did you sleep well?" Mrs. Ouji asked when she entered the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.  
  
"Yes, very well." She yawned again, then took a seat at the table across from Taisho and Midori. "Good morning Taisho, Midori," she said, giving them a sleepy smile. Outwardly she was the picture of calmness, but inside she soul was screaming; she was home, finally, and surrounded by people she's loved since childhood, with the obvious exception of Midori, though no one could deny the little fireball's charm.  
  
"Morning," Taisho mumbled around a mouthful of cereal.  
  
"Good morning!" Midori all but yelled in her high-pitched voice. Bulma gave her a strange look, then smiled nonetheless.  
  
"Tai, where is Vegeta? He's going to be late to practice, again," his mother groaned, placing her hands on her hips.  
  
"Last time I knew he was still in bed. He was out again last night."  
  
"Again! That boy has got to stop this! Where does he go at night?"  
  
"I don't know. Somewhere in the East 550 area," he said, taking a swig of orange juice. "I heard him tell Goku that he goes there to 'think'." He rolled his eyes. He couldn't go one morning without hearing his mother yell about Vegeta.  
  
"East 550! That's a half hour away!" Mrs. Ouji shouted, slamming the wooden spoon she'd been holding on the stove. "Go get him up! Right now!"  
  
"Mom! Ayano is going be here any minute! I don't have time to waste on Vegeta!" he whined, standing up and sending his chair to the floor. He would not let Vegeta ruin today for him.  
  
"I'll get him up," Bulma jumped in, not wanting the family dispute to continue.  
  
"Would you?" Mrs. Ouji's voice was back to its usual sweet tone, a smile on her face. Bulma stared at her for a split second, a shudder running through her. The change had been so fluid, so unlike the old Mrs. Ouji, the one from four years ago. Vegeta must have really done some damage in that short time.  
  
"Sure. Its no trouble at all," she said, grabbing an apple and heading up to Vegeta's room. She knocked quietly on his door upon reaching it. Nothing. She leaned her ear to it, listening to the light snoring of her old friend. "Vegeta," she whispered, poking her head in his room. He didn't stir. "Vegeta." She was louder this time, causing his eyes to snap open, and him to growl in annoyance.  
  
"What woman?" he hissed, not looking at her. Bulma heart sank momentarily; she knew it would probably take some time, but it seemed he was punishing her double for something she had no recollection of doing.  
  
"Your aunt said you need to get up," she replied, walking all the way into his room. It was much different than she remembered. Everything had been blue and white. Now nearly all his stuff was black; the walls, the carpet, his bedspread, the curtains, his furniture, even his computer. "She said you had p-p-practice," she laughed, not being able to help herself. And, who knew, maybe it would lighten the mood. She couldn't picture Vegeta on any kind of team. Teamwork wasn't his thing. "Practice for what?"  
  
"None of your damn business," he snorted, throwing off the covers and sitting up. He was clad in only plain black boxers. "Now get out of my room."  
  
"Hiss," she murmured, frowning at him, then walked out without another word.  
  
"Stupid Onna," he sighed, rubbing his eyes and looking at the clock. "Its too damn early." He stood up and grabbed the phone beside his bed.  
  
"Hello?" came the cheerful voice of Goku at the other end of the line.  
  
"Uh, calm down Kakarot. Its just a phone call," Vegeta hissed. "Come get me in twenty minutes, alright?"  
  
"Sure. Just be ready. I'm not going to be late like last time."  
  
Bulma walked quietly back downstairs, chewing absently on her apple, all the while replaying random moments in her mind. She was devastated that things with Vegeta had been, and were still, so sour. Taisho was understanding and welcoming, much like she expected Chi-Chi and the others would be.  
  
She sighed deeply, stopping halfway down the stairs, and took a seat. She took a rather large and extremely unladylike bite of the apple, chewing it slowly as she thought to herself. Moments later, however, she was interrupted by a gentle hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Bulma?" Taisho said, sitting next to her, pulling her hand, and the apple, away from her mouth.  
  
"Huh?" she mumbled, not looking up at him. He didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know something was troubling her. And more to the point, it was about Vegeta. She was struggling with the past and present, trying desperately to make them fit on top of each other perfectly, and having no luck.  
  
"What's wrong?" He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, hugging her to him. She obliged his affection, resting her head on his chest. After several moments of silence, he cleared his throat and said, "Is it Vegeta?" She stiffened slightly, then relaxed and sighed deeply. How could she think she ever had a chance keeping something from Taisho?  
  
"Yeah…" she admitted.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"That's just the thing," she nearly shouted, standing back up and throwing her arms in the air, her half-eaten apple slipping from her grasp and bouncing down the stairs. They both ignored it though, concentrating on the situation at hand. "I came back and he doesn't even care!" Taisho sighed inwardly, but what did she expect? "Yes, I know, I should have visited before now, I should have kept writing, but no one would understand why I didn't. And even if I tried to explain it, I don't think I could get through it all. It's too…Nevermind. It's boring. The point is that I thought I really had a good friendship with Vegeta. I wrote most of my letters to him, and now, when I'm finally back, he acts like I don't care. How can I make him see?"  
  
"Bulma, calm down," he urged, grabbing her upper arms and forcing her gently to sit still. "You have to remember who we're talking about here. Vegeta. When does he let his emotions show through?" She nodded half-heartedly, trying to free herself from his grasp. "Well doesn't that tell you why he's acting so…" He paused a moment, trying to find the right word. "…distant? It's in his nature to be a jackass. No matter who the person is."  
  
"Yeah…I know. Of course you're right, it's just, I don't know. I guess I figured once I got here things might be different. I feared coming back for so long, and now that I'm here my worst fears are being realized."  
  
"Come on B," Taisho said with reassurance. "You know Vegeta. He hides everything. He missed you, there's no doubt about that. He just needs some time to let his anger run its course. He'll come around, you'll be." Bulma gave him a weak smile, then stood, reaching her hand out to her long time friend. He took it without hesitation, and she led him back downstairs.  
  
"Taisho!" Mrs. Ouji yelled from the kitchen, just as he and Bulma walked in.  
  
"Yes mom?" he asked, wincing at the volume of her voice.  
  
"Ayano's here. She's waiting in the living room." She turned back to the dishwasher she'd been loading, and added, "She brought Taki and Kishi with her."  
  
"Alright. Thanks mom," he said, grabbing a couple of grapes from the fruit bowl and popping them into his mouth. "Come with me B, I want you to meet Ayano and Taki."  
  
"Who are they?"  
  
"Ayano is my girlfriend. She moved to town last year…And Taki is Kishi's boyfriend, and Ayano's brother." Bulma nodded in agreement with his first statement to her, following him into the living room. Once there, Taisho immediately went to his girlfriend, kissing her gingerly on the cheek. Bulma went unnoticed for the first few moments, until Taki noticed her, gasping and gaining everyone's attention.  
  
"B-B-Bulma Briefs!" he stuttered, eyes wide in shock.  
  
"Bulma!" Kishi squealed, running over and embracing her old friend in her arms. When Bulma wasn't hanging out with Chi-Chi, Goku, and the others, she was with Taisho and Kishi. Towards the end of her last year in Satan City the groups started to blend together, though it was clear that she was the only one holding that bond together. "I'm so happy for you! I always knew you'd be something great!" she added, before finally releasing the still startled girl.  
  
"Oh, thank you Kishi," she finally replied happily. "How have you been?"  
  
"Oh fine, you know. Boring as hell around here without you…Hey! Wait a second! What are you doing back in town anyway?"  
  
"Oh, my dad let me come after I complained about being overloaded with work." Another white lie. But they would never understand, she reasoned.  
  
"Excuse me," Ayano jumped in, everyone's attention turning to her. "Why the hell is Bulma Briefs, a famous movie star, in your house?" Her attention was now aimed towards Taisho.  
  
"She's an old friend," both Taisho and Kishi replied, half-nervously. Ayano could have quite the temper, which was ironic coming from such a tiny person.  
  
"Bulma Briefs is an old friend?" she asked suspiciously, raising a questioning eyebrow at her boyfriend. He nodded nervously, ringing his hands. "Why didn't you tell me!?" she cheered happily, a wide grin reaching across her face. "She's my favorite actress! Kami!" She then turned to Bulma, smiling ear to ear. "I loved you in Playing Murder. I mean, I know you didn't star in it, but oh Kami! You were my favorite character. Was that your first movie?" She almost didn't take a breath the entire time.  
  
"Whoa, Ayano," Taisho said, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her back to his chest. "Give her some room to breath."  
  
"Oh its fine," Bulma insisted, taking a seat in the only empty chair, across from everyone else. "I'm used to it. Its no big deal." She wrinkled her nose in annoyance at herself, for sounding so arrogant, then bit her lower lip. "Yes, that was my first movie," she finally replied, turning to Ayano.  
  
"Oh kuso!" Kishi swore, startling Bulma, who knew Kishi to be extremely religious and shunned swearing.  
  
"Things must have changed more than I thought," Bulma thought sadly.  
  
"We're going to be late!"  
  
"Where are you all going?" Bulma asked, curious to see what people around there did for fun now and days.  
  
"The water park a few towns over…It just opened last weekend," Taisho answered for everyone, scratching the back of his neck nervously. He felt bad for not inviting Bulma. But she had just showed up unannounced, and how do you ask a famous movie star to come out in public with you without looking selfish?  
  
"Oh! Bulma! You should come with us," Kishi chimed in, jumping and grabbing her friend's arm, pulling her to her feet. "It'll be so much fun. And we can catch up on everything we missed over the years."  
  
"Sure…If its ok with everyone else, that is." Everyone nodded in agreement with Kishi, and Bulma turned and ran for the staircase. "I'll be right down," she called back to them. "I just need to get my suit and stuff." Once alone on the stairs she let out a huge sigh and smiled wide. She couldn't believe how welcoming they all were. She didn't feel uncomfortable in the least.  
  
She was so busy in her own world, that she didn't see Vegeta heading towards her. So, naturally, she was surprised when they collided. "Watch it!" he hissed, stepping back.  
  
"Sorry your highness," she retorted, sticking her nose in his face. He huffed in irritation, pushing by her and stomping down the stairs. Bulma let out a soft moan when he was gone. "Just great," she sighed. "Push him further away. Nice going Bulma."  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
"Finally we're here," Kishi sighed, unbuckling her seatbelt and checking her make-up in the mirror.  
  
"Tell me about it," Ayano, who'd calmed down about being around Bulma, added. "Next time we need to pick some place a little closer."  
  
Bulma yawned and opened her eyes at the feeling of the van stopping. "We're here already?" she asked, yawning again. Her hair was a tangled mess of blue curls, a thin line of drool visible coming from the corner of her mouth.  
  
"Already?" Kishi baulked, turning around from the front seat to Bulma, who was sprawled out in the back. "We've been driving for nearly three hours." She then smiled and tried to hold back her laughter, along with everyone else, who all ended up failing, leaving the young actress dumbfounded.  
  
"What? What's so funny?" she asked, looking around to see what they could possibly be laughing at.  
  
"Oh Bulma. Your hair," Ayano laughed, almost to the point of tears, handing her a pocket mirror. She took it, checking her unruly hair, and smiled.  
  
"Oh well. I'm not looking to impress any guys today…Does anyone have a hair tie?" Kishi dug into her pocket, pulling out a thin black rubber hair band, and tossed it to Bulma. "Thanks." She quickly smoothed her hair with her hands, not caring if she left bumps and strands sticking out, and pulled it into a very messy ponytail. She then checked her appearance once more with the little mirror, smiled, and tossed it back to Kishi.  
  
"Bulma, I don't mean to be rude…but you look so-"  
  
"Normal." She cut of Ayano, and grabbed her bag from behind her seat. "I don't get all glammed up all the time you know. Cameras just never catch me like this…Are we going in or not?" She had her bag on her lap, ready to get out at any moment. The heat of late morning was beginning to bake the inside of the van.  
  
"Yeah! I'm getting bored," Taki whined, speaking up for the first time since they got there.  
  
"Me too," Taisho said, getting out of the van and coming around to the back to unload everything.  
  
"Ok, ok," Kishi sighed, looking over at Taki. "You guys are so pushy." He just rolled his eyes, then hopped out of the van and joined Taisho in the back.  
  
"How much stuff do you girls think you need?" he called, lugging the bags around to the side. "Bulma's the only one who packed sensibly." He pointed to her single backpack. "She packed lighter than me!" The two girls laughed sarcastically, then piled out of the car, Bulma being last, swinging her backpack on her shoulders.  
  
Once they were finally in the park the girls and guys went their separate ways to get changed into their swimming suits. Bulma, surprisingly, only got a few stares and whispers behind her back. People saying 'Oh Kami, is that Bulma Briefs?' or 'Wow, she looks JUST like Bulma Briefs', and things of that nature. Nothing compared to her usual hounding in Watanabe City.  
  
"You girls almost ready!" Bulma called from outside their stalls, which were side by side. She'd been ready for almost ten minutes now, and was trying to wait patiently for them.  
  
"Yes! Sheesh!" Ayano playfully hissed, pulling open the door, and frowned at her new friend. "Oh come on Bulma. At least have your t-shirt off. Show a little skin." She motioned towards her bathing suit, a simple blue bikini with a transparent blue wrap around her waist, and matching flip-flops. Kishi emerged a few seconds later, wearing an almost identical outfit, being purple instead of blue.  
  
"Jeans and a ratty old t-shirt?" Kishi questioned, tugging at her shirt. "Bulma Briefs, you'll never change out of your tomboy-ish ways. Come on! Lets see that body of yours! I know it's under there somewhere."  
  
Bulma sighed heavily and pealed off her loose plain red t-shirt, revealing the top of her black bikini. Then looking up at Kishi disapproving glare, she took off her jeans as well, wrapping her huge beach towel around her waist. "I don't see why I need to impress anyone," she complained, stuffing her clothes into her bag, and her bag in the locker she'd rented for the day. "I hate walking around half naked."  
  
"Well, if you're not going to where make-up or do your hair," she paused, not sure of how to finish her statement. "Just be a girl for the day. I know you can. Don't think I haven't seen your picture plastered all over town!"  
  
"That's different!" Bulma insisted, as they walked out of the changing room to meet with the guys. "That's my job!"  
  
"What are you girls bickering about now?" Taisho sighed, grabbing Ayano around the waist and kissing her lovingly on the cheek.  
  
"They want me to be a Barbie doll."  
  
"No!" Taisho winced at his girlfriend's loud tone, and tilted his head to the side. "All we were saying was she doesn't need to dress so…so…boyish all the time."  
  
"I'm comfortable! That's all the matters."  
  
"Hey!" yelled a deep voice from behind the group of teenagers. "Do I need to throw you kids out?" A very good-looking man with dark brown hair and matching brown eyes wearing a nametag and a shirt with the water park's logo came over to them, hands on his hips.  
  
"No," Kishi answered, cuddling up to Taisho for "protection."  
  
"Sorry sir. It won't happen again," Bulma said, though immediately regretted opening her mouth.  
  
"Bulma Briefs?" he gasped, eyes nearly bugging out of his skull.  
  
"Oh, here we go again," Ayano growled. "How many times are people going to mistaken you for that talent-less slut?"  
  
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," the man whispered, then walked away without a second glance back.  
  
"Thanks Ayano," Bulma said, smiling widely.  
  
"No problem…Oh, and sorry about the talent-less slut thing. I really do think you're a wonderful actress…And not a slut!"  
  
"Its fine," she laughed. "I thought it was rather amusing actually."  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Chi-Chi snuggled up to Goku's chest and let out a quiet sigh. Krillin and 18 were cuddled on the other side of the couch, and Vegeta was sitting in a chair across from them all, staring at the far wall. They had all just got back from the movies, and were waiting for their pizzas to arrive. "Wow, Bulma's such a great actress," Chi-Chi finally said, looking up at Goku, who nodded in agreement. They'd all agreed that the movie wasn't the best they'd seen, but that Bulma was great at her job. With the except of Vegeta, of course. She was a horrible actress, as he'd said. "I miss her."  
  
"Me too," 18 sighed.  
  
"Why do you guys care about that stupid wench anyway?" Vegeta chimed in angrily. "She left and hasn't visited once since. She's not thinking about you guys, so why think about her?"  
  
"She's been busy!" Chi-Chi insisted, glaring at her boyfriend's cold best friend.  
  
"Ha! You're all no bodies to her. I bet she doesn't even remember you."  
  
"You better can it Vegeta!" 18 warned, balling her fist.  
  
"Whatever," he grunted. Then dug in his coat pocket for his cell phone, which was ringing. "Hello?…Yeah, what do you want?…No, I'm at Kakarot's. I'm busy…I don't care what you want…No! Stay there! I'm in no mood for you…Again, I don't care…No!…Hey!…Don't-" And the phone went dead. "Stupid wench," he grunted, shoving the phone back in his pocket.  
  
"Who was that?" Goku asked curiously.  
  
"No one."  
  
"Right, you were just yelling at no one."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Come on. Who was it?"  
  
"Well you'll all find out in a few minutes. Damn wench. I'm leaving." With that he got up and trudged towards the door, only to stop when there was a knock coming from the other side. "Kuso!" he swore, backing up.  
  
"Vegeta!" Chi-Chi yelled, standing and confronting him by the door. "Did you have another fling, then ditch the poor girl!"  
  
"Of course, I do that all the time," he said with a cocky grin.  
  
"Oh, poor thing." She pouted, slapped Vegeta on the head, then opened the door to comfort whoever the most recent ex of his was. She'd been doing that ever since he started doing that to the girls in their school. Since she spent so much time with Vegeta on account of Goku, she felt it was the only right thing to do. She didn't want people thinking she hung around him because she wanted to, though lately she'd been wondering if maybe they were friends now. Ever since that day last year the thought had been in the back of her mind. "I'm so sorry for what he did. He's such a jer—Bulma!" She nearly fell back in shock, gaining everyone's attention at the mention of their old friend's name.  
  
"Chi!" The two girls magnetized towards one another, soon to be embraced by Goku, 18, and Krillin as well. "I've missed you guys so much!"  
  
"Oh Kami B! What are you doing here!"  
  
"I finally got a break and you were the first people who came to mind." She was half-lying, of course. She'd had several long breaks before, but didn't come see them. She'd had a lot on her plate then though. Now was the first time she'd been able to do anything outside the city without, well, without certain restraints. But she didn't want to get into that long story. Not just yet.  
  
"Oh! We have so much to catch up on!" Bulma simply nodded, then turned towards Vegeta, who was trying to sneak out unnoticed.  
  
"Vegeta," Bulma growled, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him towards the group. "What was the big idea over the phone?" He shrugged her arm off, and sighed angrily. He was in no mood to deal with Chi-Chi and her out of control temper, especially when directed towards him. But then again, it usually was.  
  
He rolled his eyes and stepped back into the house.  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
---Chapter 2! Ok, so I think I'm really getting back into this. It's not as good as I would like, but it's too much of a hassle to revise the entire thing. I've made a lot of little changes though, and plan to take the fic in a totally different direction than I originally had in mind.  
  
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!! (ReviewsMore Chapters)  
  
Next time: Bulma and the gang catch up on things, but is she really accepted so easily?  
  
Note: Don't think Bulma's a moron for trying to act like nothing happened, especially with Vegeta. She just wants so badly for things to be like they were. That makes sense, right? 


	3. Abandoning Abandonment

Last time:  
  
"Vegeta," Bulma growled, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him towards the group. "What was the big idea over the phone?" He shrugged her arm off, and sighed angrily. He was in no mood to deal with Chi-Chi and her out of control temper, especially when directed towards him. But then again, it usually was.  
  
He rolled his eyes and stepped back into the house.  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
"So B, what's Unkei Akaike like in person?" Chi-Chi asked, preaching her head on her hands, her elbows propped up, lying on her stomach on her bed. It was well past midnight, the boys were long gone, and their bowls were full of popcorn. It felt so perfect; Bulma could hardly contain her excitement.  
  
"He's a normal guy, Chi," Bulma sighed with a smile. "But he has the best body in the business. Woo! And what a kisser!"  
  
"Bulma," 18 chimed in, having excluded herself from the conversation long ago.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Why didn't you visit 'til now?" she asked solemnly, turning back to the computer game she was playing, not expecting a truthful answer. For three years she'd lived with the fact that she'd never lay eyes on Bulma again. She was beginning to accept it, when, all of a sudden, she's in their lives again, and acting as if nothing happened.  
  
"Well…I…" She paused, looking at anything but 18 or Chi-Chi. "It's complicated 18."  
  
"Oh?" She turned away from the computer screen, looking directly into Bulma's eyes. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hold back her anger any longer. True, the first moment she saw her at Goku's front door her heart had almost stopped, and she did embrace her, but as the minutes wore into hours the years of malice returned. She was beyond angry. Borderline rage was more like it. "Try me."  
  
Bulma, who had been lying on her stomach on the floor, sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. "It's a really long story. Are you sure you-"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Alright," she sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well at first I wrote to all of you, you know that…but then we all just stopped writing and-"  
  
"No, you stopped writing to us," 18 hissed, crossing her arms.  
  
"You're right…I know…and I was getting to that…" She looked around the room, taking in all of the things Chi-Chi had and how she had them. Her curtains, navy blue, pulled shut. Her nightstand, plain white with only a single lamp. Everything was so neat and tidy; plain. Everything looked so strange now that reality had returned. "I met him right before I stopped writing…His name was Eizan. Eizan Sunada…"  
  
Flashback:  
  
"Bulma Briefs?" came a deep voice from behind the blue haired young woman.  
  
"Yes?" she answered, turning and coming face to face with the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. "How-How may I help you?" she asked, trying to keep her cheeks from turning red, as she addressed this man the same as all other customers. She'd been working at Capsule Corp. for as long as she could remember, and still, dealing with the consumers was the hardest thing for her. She would much rather be in the lab working on something with her father, but to her displeasure, sometimes she was needed elsewhere and had to leave her sanctuary.  
  
"Ah, Seiryo was absolutely right. You are the most beautiful woman I will ever lay eyes on," he complimented, though did not answer her question.  
  
"Why…thank you, sir, but what is your business with Capsule Corp.?" She tried to suppress a giggle as she heard her father's words escape her mouth. What is your business? She needed a break, and fast.  
  
"Well, Bulma-"  
  
"And how do you know my name?"  
  
"Miss, everyone knows who the Briefs are," he answered simply, then continue further with an explanation. "Plus, my secretary Seiryo, brought you and your beauty to my attention. And I must say, I'm very, very glad our companies chose to do business together, otherwise I may have missed this opportunity."  
  
"Please, sir, your name and purpose," she nearly hissed, becoming increasingly annoyed with his slow manner at answering her to the point. Good looks could only get you so far in her book. "And do well to keep your flattery in the walls of your head," she added, not being able to help herself. She'd had a bad day all day and this man was just what her horrible mood needed to set her off.  
  
"My, my. And she has a spark too," he chuckled, smirking at her, reminding her oddly enough of her former crush.  
  
"Your business, sir."  
  
"My business is with you."  
  
"Me?" she nearly gasped, but quickly regained her composure. "I'm sorry, but I only offer assistance in regards to Capsule Corporation. So, if there is nothing you need here, please make haste to leave the premises, or I may have to inform security."  
  
"I mean no offense miss, but if you were to inform security, I'm quite sure you would have done it by now. Your finger has been hovering near the button for quite awhile."  
  
"Kuso," she cursed silently, glaring at him. "Your name, please."  
  
"Gladly," he said with a smile, reaching into his pocket for his card, which he handed to her in the usual manner seen in movies. "The name's Eizan. Eizan Sunada, of Sunada and Sons Productions," he finally answered in his smoothest gentleman voice.  
  
"Oh Kami," she groaned, smacking her forehead with the butt of her hand. But she soon remembered that she was still quite angry with this man who walked into her father's place of business and refused to give forth his name when asked several times. Rudeness was something she did not tolerate when working desk. "Sir, thank you for your name, but I must know the manner of your business with my father or I will be forced to find you an escort off the property."  
  
"Well, this is a new one. Usually when girls such as yourself find out my place of business they bow at my feet. You are truly amazing."  
  
"I am not like most girls Mr. Sunada—"  
  
"Please, call me Eizan."  
  
"Mr. Sunada," she repeated venomously, causing a chuckle from the only slightly older man; early twenties at most. "I don't take shit from people who seem to think they are holier than thou. Your business?"  
  
He sighed deeply, looking into her eyes. She almost had to look away, but forced herself to glare angrily back at him. No one treated her in such a way and got away with it, no matter who they were. "I came here looking for a beautiful soda commercial star and found the perfect actress for my movie."  
  
"Excuse me, but what did you just say?" Though she was stunned her voice never lost any of its anger, and Eizan couldn't help but smirk up at her.  
  
"You, Bulma Briefs, are just what I've been looking for."  
  
End flashback:  
  
"I knew that name sounded familiar," Chi-Chi mumbled when Bulma took a rather long pause. "So, that's how you were discovered?"  
  
"Yeah…" she sighed, leaning back, her arms holding her up.  
  
"That guy sounds like Vegeta," 18 commented roughly. "Is that why you liked him?" she asked, catching both Bulma and Chi-Chi completely off guard.  
  
"N-N-No…" she barely managed to say, averting her eyes from her cold blonde friend. She was just as she remembered, though much harder on the outside now. She must have been through a lot since they last wrote.  
  
"Right," Chi-Chi said sarcastically. "I happen to know for a fact that you had the biggest crush on 'Geta back in the day."  
  
Bulma frowned, crossing her arms and turned away. "That was then…"  
  
Flashback:  
  
"Alright…ACTION!!!" boomed the loud voice of the director, startling Bulma almost out of her chair beside her. They were on the movie set, the movie that she would be in. Eizan had picked her up at Capsule Corp. early that morning, around 6:00 AM, though Bulma scarcely remembered waking up. But she was wide-awake now; sitting next to Ms. Masuzoe one could hardly keep their eyes closed for more than a moment. But she was an exceptionally nice woman.  
  
Everywhere Bulma looked, she saw experienced actors and actresses, the people she'd be working with for months to come. They were all professionals, having done at least two movies prior to this one. She was the only actress on set with no experience. "CUT!" another shriek caused Bulma's head to snap in her direction, nearly sending her a death glare, until her sensibility stopped her. This woman was her boss now, no matter how much of a morning person Bulma was not.  
  
"So, Bulma, how do you like it?" Eizan whispered from the chair next to her.  
  
"Its death," she sneered. Her distaste for him hadn't diminished in the least.  
  
"Please, dear, do try and make the best of this. It may be your only opportunity at stardom."  
  
"You forget, Mr. Sunada, that I did not want this opportunity, at all."  
  
"Then what made you change your mind so suddenly last night? It was 3:00 AM if I remember correctly."  
  
"My mother," she stated, still not looking at him. "She had the chance when she was a girl and turned it down, and she regrets it. She urged me not to make the same mistake. So I decided to please her and try it. And even though she told me disrespect is unladylike and that you, above all, deserve the most for your offer, I assure you, sir, that you will get as much respect as if you were a murderer of children."  
  
"Ouch! Miss Briefs you make my heart ache," he cooed, brushing the back of his hand across her face. She immediately slapped it away, glared daggers at him, then turned to Ms. Masuzoe.  
  
"It's a wonderful script," she commented as the other woman watched the performance carefully for the slightest mistakes.  
  
"Yes, child, indeed it is. But hush, I need to concentrate," she said sweetly, waving her away.  
  
"Oh of course. Sorry."  
  
"Wow, you're being polite…It doesn't suit you," he laughed, leaning back in his chair to pay attention to the goings on before him for the first time since they arrived. It didn't matter to him what the movie looked like so long as he got his share of the money.  
  
"Bite me," she growled, crossing her arms and turning her attention to the scene as well.  
  
They watched the story of the particular scene unfold before them, though Bulma guessed it would look much better if there were no scripts and they were in costume. But still, they were wonderful to her; everything she thought she could never be. Until Eizan that was. Even with her mild hatred for him, he still made her feel wanted in a town that otherwise denied her a chance at anything but what her father offered. And, even if she did have a severe case of stage fright, she still wanted to experience the feeling of presenting a story to the world in such a way. True, her mother did have to almost force her into it, but she was glad for that. "I definitely have to tell the guys about this," she thought as Chi-Chi, 18, Vegeta, and all the others suddenly bombarded her thoughts. She missed them so much, she would definitely start a letter when she got home.  
  
End Flashback:  
  
"I never got a letter," 18 huffed, interrupting Bulma's story. She couldn't bear another pitiful word. How could she even think they'd welcome her back as if nothing happened, without explanation?  
  
"Well I started writing one, to both of you…I still have them," she sighed, leaning over and grabbing her purse where she'd stuffed the letters in an envelope at the bottom long ago. "See," she said, pulling them out and handing one to each of the girls.  
  
(Chi-Chi's Letter):  
  
Dear Cheech,  
  
Sorry I haven't written in so long, I've just been really busy with things, which I will tell you all about. You'll be happy for me, I know it! I'm so excited it scares me. Well, I won't drag this on forever, I bet you're probably grumbling right now at how slow I'm being (I know you too well). So, I was at work one day and this unbelievable man comes in, and he's the most gorgeous thing I've ever laid eyes on, but—get this—he has an attitude that would crush Vegeta's! He was so insufferable! I could have slapped him if not for what he was there for…It was Eizan Sunada, Chi! Eizan Sunada! And he was there to cast ME in a TV commercial!! Weird thing though was that even after I found out who he was, I was still yelling at him. But that's not the best news, cause I'm not doing the commercial. I'm going to be in a movie!!! Its called Playing Murder. It's only a small part, and I don't really have that many lines (Thank Kami), but its still an important part that the story line needs. Can you believe it!? I hardly can! Its so –And that's where the letter cut off.  
  
"Why didn't you finish it?" Chi-Chi asked, placing the tattered piece of notebook paper on her nightstand.  
  
"I got caught up in a lot…" she mumbled, averting her eyes from her former best friend. By now she must have been only thought of as the ex-best friend.  
  
"What about mine?" 18 hissed, crumpling it up and throwing it none too gently back at her. "All it says is: Dear 18, I don't know what to say, sorry I haven't written, but I've been busy. I'll explain though in—and then it stops. Honestly Bulma, you made no effort at trying to stay friends with us. Do you have any idea how many letters I sent you after not receiving any!?"  
  
"Forty-seven," she replied solemnly, looking at the floor. "And I saved them all. I saved all of everyone's letters in a binder. I used to read them all every night before I could fall asleep…"  
  
"Then what?" 18 growled, not moved in the least by the tears that were beginning to fall on her cheeks. The nerve! "You stopped and just forgot about us, is that it!?"  
  
"No!" Bulma cried, covering her face with her hands. "It wasn't like that! I swear!"  
  
"You know, at one time I thought you were one of the only people I could trust that would NEVER hurt me! Never! And now look! You leave, cut off contact, and then come back and expect everything to be all sun shine and daises!? Well I don't think so! I've heard enough!" She turned sharply to Chi-Chi, trying her best not to glare at her startled friend, who should have been used to her blonde friend's outbursts by now. "I'm sorry Chi, but I can't stand to be around that sorry excuse for a person anymore! I'll call you." Without another word to anyone, 18 was out the door.  
  
"Oh Kami," Bulma moaned, curling into a depressing little ball on the floor, wishing her old life was back. She'd missed everyone here so much, she'd longed for the moment she they could all be "the gang" again. But in the back of her mind she'd always known that this would happen. There was no other way for it to go. She'd left them, stopped writing, and gave no explanation. And now, crying in front of her old friend, she knew that they would never hear her story; they didn't deserve to be put through it, have to sit in anger and listen to her words, wanting her gone, and then, suddenly, feeling sorry for her just because of her past. She couldn't have that. She didn't want them back out of pity. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized that it could have easily been prevented if she never came back at all. It was her worst fear coming to life; both 18 and Vegeta were bitter at her, and had been for Kami knows how long, Chi-Chi was understanding but skeptical, Goku was happy, but indifferent, and Krillin, well, she really didn't know what Krillin was thinking. But right now all she was concerned about was 18, and if and how she could make things right before she went back to Watanabe City, for that was her only remaining option now. "Chi, what am I going to do!?" she cried, toppling over and curling into a ball of helpless sobs.  
  
Chi-Chi didn't respond. Bulma's heart stopped.  
  
"Chi?" she squeaked, looking up at her supposed friend who was glaring down at her. "N-No…"  
  
"I don't see how you couldn't have expected she'd act like this. Hell, I should be acting like that! You're damn lucky I pity you!" she yelled, slamming a fist angrily into her mattress.  
  
"No! Please no! No…Why didn't I see?"  
  
Chi-Chi only continued to glare, having never felt so angry in her life, not even at Vegeta when he'd sleep with girls and leave them. This was utter hatred, something she'd never felt so deeply before, which made her even more angry. Bulma had just gone too far. How could she expect to leave then come back and have everything be just like before? It was impossible. And further more, she expected them not to be mad at her in the least for cutting contact! Well, she'd be damned if she was going to let her so called friend get away with that. "I-I…"  
  
Bulma looked up at her with watery eyes and tear-stained cheeks, begging her not to finish her sentence. She would leave without another word, but if she continued—  
  
"I want you to leave," she said firmly, pointing a shaky finger at the door. She could hardly keep the tears from escaping her chocolate brown eyes.  
  
"A-A…Alright…I…I'll never bother you again…" she sighed, picking herself up and trudging to the door. "I…No matter what you guys think of me now, I've never forgotten you. Never…All I ever w-wished f-for…All I-I ever wanted…w-was to come b-back and be with you all again…I'm sorry my problems got in the way…I'm sorry that I got caught up in…other things…But I swear to you, I will never bother you again if that's what you really want…Good-bye Chi…"  
  
All she did, all her anger would allow her to do, was glare at Bulma as tears cascaded down her face, her body quivering as she finally left the room. "Good-bye B…" Chi-Chi whispered, letting a few tears run the length of her face, then splash on her hand only seconds before she collapsed on her bed in a fit of tears.  
  
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---Chapter 3! Wow…Poor Bulma…Poor everyone…But don't worry, you'll all find out why she didn't write or visit in all that time. And it's a very very good reason. Bear with me, there's a method to my madness :P  
  
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (ReviewsMore Chapters)  
  
Next time: What more can Bulma do?…PLENTY! :P 


	4. Unknown Tragedy

Last time:  
  
"A-A…Alright…I…I'll never bother you again…" she sighed, picking herself up and trudging to the door. "I…No matter what you guys think of me now, I've never forgotten you. Never…All I ever w-wished f-for…All I-I ever wanted…w-was to come b-back and be with you all again…I'm sorry my problems got in the way…I'm sorry that I got caught up in…other things…But I swear to you, I will never bother you again if that's what you really want…Good-bye Chi…"  
  
All she did, all her anger would allow her to do, was glare at Bulma as tears cascaded down her face, her body quivering as she finally left the room. "Good-bye B…" Chi-Chi whispered, letting a few tears run the length of her face, then splash on her hand only seconds before she collapsed on her bed in a fit of tears.  
  
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Flashback:  
  
"Where are you going!" he roared, grabbing her roughly by the arms, forcing her to meet his gaze. She turned her head sharply away, fighting to keep the tears in, just this once. If she could keep her cheeks dry this time she considered it a win. "Look at me!" He snaked an arm around her waist, jerking her against his chest. The other hand he placed on her throat, and turned her face to him. "Where are you going?"  
  
"Home," she managed, her voice hoarse.  
  
"You are home," he said through his teeth. "You don't live with your mommy and daddy anymore."  
  
For a long time he simply stared into her eyes, and she stared into his blackened soul. How could someone as cold as him have been so enchanting in the beginning? How could he have hidden the real him long enough to seduce her? The answer was nowhere tangible; his past had been washed clean, hiding all references to what he was now.  
  
"If you leave," he finally said, taking a deliberate step back, "I will kill you." He didn't wait to see the terror in her eyes before he threw her on the bed, like so much dirty laundry. He watched her crawl towards the headboard, hugging a pillow to her chest, her eyes quivering and wet, but her cheeks dry as powder. He waited patiently, lit a cigarette. "Go on," he said after what could have been five whole minutes. "Cry."  
  
She looked up, took a shaky breath, and said, "No," as firmly as she could.  
  
The laughter she expected, that deep, guttural laugh he was so known for. But the slap, that was new. The laughter stopped as abruptly as it started. His hand was too fast for her to move.  
  
"I'm not crying for you anymore!" she screamed, arching her back when he lifted her off the bed.  
  
That night he beat her unconscious. The first night of many.  
  
She would never be the same.  
  
End Flashback:  
  
Bulma awoke with tears in her eyes. She sat up and walked slowly into the hotel bathroom. After her shattered reunion with her friends, she decided that staying at Taisho's was no longer appropriate. He'd begged her to stay, cradled her on the front steps as she cried for nearly an hour, but in the end he couldn't convince her. She promised to meet him for lunch the next day before she went back to Watanabe City.  
  
She studied at her reflection in the mirror for a long while before reaching into her purse on the counter. A few painkillers would get rid of her headache, but the images of her nightmare were still burned into her mind's eye. It had been two months since she'd had that dream. Not long enough.  
  
In a few minutes she'd go back to bed, getting a good three more hours of sleep before she got up and went to lunch with Taisho. After her night, she couldn't imagine getting up any time before ten.  
  
She was about to turn off the light and head back to bed, when an old scar caught her eye. Jagged and white, it stuck out right about her left temple, usually hidden expertly with heavy make-up and a fashionable hairstyle. It was the scar that hid the pain of her past, a past that nearly took her life.  
  
"It's over," she said sternly to her reflection. "And it's over here too."  
  
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Taisho sighed deeply for the fifth time in a row. Bulma finally looked up and smiled meekly. She knew what he wanted to know, but the strength to even begin wasn't there.  
  
"It's nothing I can't handle," she said, spearing a cherry tomato in her salad and popping it in her mouth.  
  
"You just have me really worried," he sighed. "I don't want you to go unless I'm sure you're going to be ok."  
  
"Believe me," she laughed. "This is nothing for me."  
  
"That's what scares me." He looked up from his food, a deep frown on his lips.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"If what happened last night is nothing to you, and you cried in my lap for an hour, then there's so much you're not telling me…B, what happened in Watanabe City? What's made you change?"  
  
"Change?" She arched an eyebrow, and set down her fork. "I'm different?"  
  
"It's nothing drastic," he assured her. "But it's there. I can see it every time you smile. It's…" But he couldn't continue.  
  
"It's what?"  
  
"Forget it. I don't want to offend you."  
  
"You won't," she said, placing her hand gentle on his. "Go on."  
  
He sighed, caving to her perfect persuasion, and leaned in.  
  
"When you smile," he whispered, "it's like a part of you is missing. I know you're happy when you smile, but the happiness is…duller somehow. Like nothing can make you truly happy again. Like something took that happiness from you and you've accepted it…Bulma, has someone hurt you? Is that the story you can't tell anyone?"  
  
"Tai," she laughed, leaning back in the booth. "I don't know when you became so deep, but you're definitely not a psychologist. I've just developed a tougher outer shell, if you will. Being a success in the film industry takes quite the toll on a person's…luster. I can take a lot more than I used to be able to. And I have acting to thank for that. No ones mugging this girl."  
  
Taisho looked at her levelly for a moment, then sat back and nodded.  
  
"Ok B. You win. I won't pester you about it anymore."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"One more thing though."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"When will I see you again?"  
  
"Oh Tai," she sighed. She bent across the table and gave him a tender kiss on the forehead. "I love you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I may be going back to Watanabe, but this will always be home. I promise you that this isn't the last you've seen of me."  
  
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"You need to stop beating yourself up over this," Krillin said as he rubbed 18's back in slow, warm circles. It was the only thing that calmed her when she was this upset. "It's not your fault she stop sending letters. I don't really know her as well as you and Chi and Goku and Vegeta did, but I don't think a true friend would do something like that. Maybe it's better this way. I mean, you've gotten by perfectly fine without her."  
  
"I know," 18 sighed, straightening her back. Krillin took the hint and slid out from behind her, wrapping his arm around her stiff shoulders.  
  
"What is it then?"  
  
"I just never thought Bulma, of all people, could hurt me like that. Even Vegeta wouldn't be so heartless."  
  
"Well," he said, giving her a loving kiss on the cheek, "I say forget her. She's caused you nothing but pain since the day she left. You're better off without her, just like she's probably better off in Watanabe City with all her big budget friends."  
  
"That's so cruel," she said, unable to hold back her bitter laughter. "But I'm beginning to think you're right."  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Vegeta rubbed his face roughly in an attempt to wake up. Last night had been the worst, to say the least. It wasn't until then that the full weight of Bulma's visit bore down on him. A million and one thoughts raced through his mind; memories, tiny glimpses into a perfect past he could never live in again.  
  
He'd woken earlier that morning, around three o'clock, his head throbbing and his muscles sore. When he opened his eyes he realized he was in the basement, the punching bag only inches away. It wasn't the best way to wake up, and fortunately it was late enough that he could sneak back into his room without getting an earful from his aunt.  
  
"Stupid wench," he grumbled, pulling himself to his feet. His aching pains could have easily been prevented had Bulma never come back. She'd been the source of all his pain for so long it made him want to laugh. Before he could reach the bathroom and soak in a hot bath, just the remedy he needed, the phone on his nightstand rang. "Hello?" he answered gruffly.  
  
"Vegeta?" came Goku's unmistakenable voice.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you have a minute?"  
  
"No," he said flatly.  
  
"I'm worried about Chi-Chi."  
  
"Really?" he feigned interest. "I'm worried about dying of boredom. Get to the point."  
  
"She's been so depressed since Bulma came back. I haven't seen her eat a single thing."  
  
"You can stop worrying," Vegeta sighed, exasperated. "She's going home today."  
  
Goku stopped in the middle of a word and said nothing for several moments.  
  
"I," he began, but dropped the idea entirely. "Good," he settled on, and hung up the phone. Vegeta stared at the beeping phone for a moment, then slammed it on the receiver. That was not how he wanted to start his day.  
  
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"I don't know you!?" she screamed, shoving him back. "I don't know you! I don't know myself anymore, Settan!"  
  
"I can't even look at you right now," he spat venomously, staring her dead in the eyes, a complete contradiction of his words. "You're dead inside, Toshiko. You're not the woman I married."  
  
He turned to go, but she caught him roughly by the arm and spun him back around.  
  
"The woman you married?" she hissed in a low whisper. "I was sixteen when we got married, Settan. I'm no more a woman now than I was then. What did you expect? That high school love would last forever? Are you that delusional?"  
  
"That gives you the right to sleep with Makoto? My best friend!"  
  
"My best lover," she laughed, her face lightening into a brilliantly vicious smile.  
  
"I despise you."  
  
He was nearly out the door when her last words gave him pause.  
  
"We're finally on the same page, Settan."  
  
In that moment he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms, kiss her all over, and declare to the world that they were madly in love, as in love as they'd ever been. But that was a lie and now, standing in that ordinary doorway, he realized that he'd known it the whole time.  
  
"I did love you once," he said quietly. "Good-bye Toshi."  
  
"And…CUT!" a voice bellowed. Bulma looked up, awaiting her evaluation. It was the first time she and Hisaki Ito, another breakout actor, had worked together. The first few times rehearsing this scene had been a breeze. Of course, they'd had scripts then. She prayed she'd remember all her lines. "Bulma, come here dear," the director said, motioning her over.  
  
"It needs a lot, I know," Bulma said as she crossed the soundstage.  
  
"Actually, I think its perfect."  
  
"It can't—"  
  
"It is, trust me. I was just going to suggest that you and Mr. Ito work on it some more, for him. He's great, but there's something so real about your performance. Try and make him that real too. Can you do that?"  
  
"I can try."  
  
"Brilliant. That's all for today."  
  
Bulma smiled respectfully and walked off the set, her eyes itching from the intense stage lights. She went to the water cooler, poured a cup of water, dipped a napkin into it, and dabbed her eyes lightly.  
  
"That's new," came a masculine voice behind her. She turned around sharply and forced a smile. It wasn't that she didn't like Hisaki Ito, he was a great person, but there was just something a little odd about him. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it was definitely there.  
  
"The lights really bother my eyes," she said after a moment. "I don't think I'll ever get used to them, you know?"  
  
"Not really," he said, trying to continue the obviously dead conversation. "I'm used to them by now."  
  
"Right."  
  
"You don't remember me, do you?"  
  
"Remember you?" she asked, setting her cup and napkin on the buffet table. "From where?"  
  
"The hotel in Tokyo." Bulma's expression remained just as confused. "About five months ago. You were hiding under a stairwell, crying."  
  
"I'm sorry. I don't remember."  
  
"You were pretty roughed up," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I took you to the hospital. Brought you flowers the next day."  
  
Bulma's eyes widened in realization, and her face immediately turned red.  
  
"Kami," she laughed uneasily. "What an embarrassing way to meet someone. I feel awful not remembering you."  
  
"I completely understand." Sympathy was evident in his voice. It made her want to throw the platter of celery and carrots at him. Sympathy was the last thing she wanted or needed. "You never did tell me what happened."  
  
"I was under the stairs," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I tripped and fell down two or three flights."  
  
"Oh," he sighed, not believing her in the least. But it wasn't his place to pry. "Well, I have to get going. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"Yeah. Goodnight."  
  
"Night."  
  
The moment he was out of sight, she slammed her hand into the water coolers, sending it crashing to the floor. The top broke off, and all the remaining water came rushing out as if from a burst dam.  
  
"Sorry!" she called to those who turned to see what the commotion was about, unable to mask her anger. They too were unable to mask their emotions; annoyance. It was just like Bulma Briefs to throw a fit when the slightest thing went wrong. And they all thought the same thing: She wasn't this way at first. What happened? "I'll call a custodian."  
  
"It's fine, dear," the director said, coming up behind her. "Here." She slipped a business card into Bulma's hand and walked away. She waited until no one was looking, and opened her hand.  
  
"Kuso," she swore, shoving the card into her pocket. "I do not need to see a damn shrink." Her fellow actors and actresses would stronger disagree. Bulma Briefs, once Japan's fresh new sweetheart, was now the farthest thing from it. It was almost as if some unknown tragedy had befallen her, altering her persona completely.  
  
Little did they know, that their guesses were painfully true.  
  
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---Chapter 4!!! :) Wow, finally a real new chapters :P Heehee. I know, it was a little shorter than the others, but I wanted to get a new chapter out as soon as possible. Hopefully I've gotten your attention with my little twists and turns :P  
  
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (ReviewsMores Chapters)  
  
Next time: How can Bulma and Vegeta get together when no one will talk to her?…Find out! :P 


	5. Why Can't I Forget?

Last time:  
  
"Kuso," she swore, shoving the card into her pocket. "I do not need to see a damn shrink." Her fellow actors and actresses would stronger disagree. Bulma Briefs, once Japan's fresh new sweetheart, was now the farthest thing from it. It was almost as if some unknown tragedy had befallen her, altering her persona completely.  
  
Little did they know, that their guesses were painfully true.  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
"Vegeta!" an angry masculine voice bellowed, followed by furious banging. He took a deep breath, heaved the barbell back onto its holder, and sat up.  
  
"What!" he called back, annoyed. He couldn't stand it when people interrupted his exercising.  
  
"Get your ass up here now!"  
  
"Bite me!"  
  
"Kami, damn it, Vegeta! If you don't—" Vegeta drudged up the basement stairs and flung open the door, glaring heatedly at his uncle Okura. They did NOT get along. "Your aunt asked you to pick Midori up at Day Care this afternoon."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And! Where the hell were you!"  
  
"Is she home now?"  
  
"Yes," he snapped, clenching his fists at his sides.  
  
"Is she alive?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"Then what's the problem?"  
  
"The problem, Vegeta, is that YOU were supposed to pick her up. She'd been waiting there for two hours. Can't you even answer the phone?"  
  
"Nope," he said, smiling. "I guess I'm that useless."  
  
"At least we can agree on that." He looked his nephew over and frowned. "Take a shower and get ready."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"We're going to Midori's soccer game in an hour. Now hurry up."  
  
Vegeta only rolled his eyes and pushed his way past his uncle.  
  
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"Come on, B," Taisho practically whined. "It's only for a few hours. I promise you'll be home in time to get plenty of sleep for tomorrow."  
  
"I don't know," she sighed, curling the phone cord around her finger nervously. It'd been weeks since she'd been to Satan City, and though the waters may have calmed, she didn't think it was wise for her to go back so soon. Taisho still wouldn't tell her exactly how everyone was, if they'd talked about her at all since she left. True, he didn't really hang out with them, but living with Vegeta there must have been something he knew that he wasn't telling her. "When do I have to be there?"  
  
"An hour or so. Same time it takes you to get here. We can be late, it's fine."  
  
"And you're sure Vegeta won't be there?"  
  
"Vegeta would stab himself in the eye before going anywhere with the family. Just because we share a last name, doesn't mean we share everything."  
  
"Fine," she said after a long pause. "But I better not see any of them."  
  
"Alright, alright. If you even sense one of them near there, we can leave. Ok?"  
  
"Deal. I'll see you in an hour."  
  
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High-powered cheers rippled through the crowd, as agile little people ran back and forth in pursuit of a black and white ball. Bulma had just gotten into the city five minutes before, embarrassed to make Taisho late for his sister's first soccer game of the season. He assured her that it was no big deal, and that he would rather not be there, but he only came to give his sister support.  
  
"Which team?" Bulma asked as they approached the field, the running figures still blurred dots of color.  
  
"Red," Taisho replied, instinctively wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him. He still couldn't believe that she was actually in his life again. For four years he'd wondered if he would ever see her again. After awhile, however, he learned to accept that she wasn't coming back, ever. And then, a little less than three weeks ago, she shows up at his door and—Bam!—they're instantly joined at the hip. It was more than he could hope for. Ayano was the missing piece of his life that had been filled, and Bulma was his exact compliment. It was almost as if he had two soul mates.  
  
"What position does she play?" As the people started to take shape, Bulma reached into her purse and pulled out a pair of oversized sunglasses. Her hair had already been hidden under a thin snow hat, something not too hot for the cool autumn weather.  
  
"You're too cute," Taisho laughed, giving her a kiss on the cheek.  
  
"What do you expect?" she sighed in annoyance. He knew it wasn't directed at him. "I get hounded every time I leave the house. Did you see my picture in the paper after I came here last time? It's ridiculous."  
  
"What? You're not leading a double life as a high school student in Satan City?"  
  
"Shut up." But she couldn't help but laugh. Then, very abruptly she stopped, and so did her laughter. Taisho stopped as well, his eyes drifting along her line of vision. For a moment he didn't believe was he was seeing, and then his blood began pumping, and he swore angrily under his breath. "What the hell—"  
  
"I don't know," he spat unintentionally. "I'll go find out. You stay here."  
  
He crossed the long stretch of lawn twice as fast as he would normally walk, stopping dead in front of the source of his anger.  
  
"You mind?" came an annoyed voice.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" Taisho seethed, wanting to grab him by the collar and force his face into the ground.  
  
"Your know-nothing father made me come. Take it up with that asshole."  
  
"Pipe down," Mr. Ouji snapped, keeping his eyes on his star daughter on the field.  
  
"You have to leave, Vegeta," Taisho said, ignoring their unimportant bickering.  
  
"Gladly," he said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"So go."  
  
"He's not going anywhere," his father said coolly. "Vegeta and I have reached an agreement. He treats me like the father I've been to him since my brother and his wife died, and no more 'cruel and unusual' punishments." By that he meant no more fistfights in the basement were Mrs. Ouji was none the wiser. They were evenly matched, of course, though nine times out of ten Mr. Ouji's anger drove him further. Vegeta agreed to their arrangement only for health reasons; he'd rather keep all his teeth.  
  
"This is shit!" Taisho swore. The heads of all the parents in the crowd snapped in his direction, glaring daggers for using such language around their innocent children. "Tell him to leave, dad. I won't let him ruin today for me."  
  
"What are you talking about, boy?" Mr. Ouji sighed, finally turning to the dispute at hand. "I didn't think he bothered you as much as he bothered me."  
  
"Bulma is here," he said under his breath to keep everyone from hearing and going into comas at the sight of a movie star. "She can only be in town for the game. If I knew HE was going to be here I wouldn't have brought her."  
  
"Then don't let me spoil it," Vegeta scoffed, standing up.  
  
"I don't think so Vegeta," Mr. Ouji said, pushing his shoulder for him to sit. "This is part of the agreement, remember? You need to spend more time with Midori. You know how she feels about you, for some reason."  
  
"Screw you both," Taisho snapped. He usually got along rather well with his father, the stone cold authority figure, but sometimes he just couldn't contain his anger. "I'm leaving."  
  
"If you really want to upset your sister," Mr. Ouji said, turning back to the game. Taisho stopped short, a pang slamming through his heart when his eyes met with little Midori on the field. She beamed at him for an instant, then charged down the field at the ball. She was quite aggressive for someone her age.  
  
Taisho sighed in agitation, looked to Bulma across the field, and motioned for her to come over. She hesitated for a minute or so, then slowly made her way over, all the while keeping her head down. When she finally reached the bleachers, she tucked herself close to Taisho, wrapping her arms around his waist, and took a took as far from Vegeta as possible, while staying near the family, Mrs. Ouji on her other side.  
  
"I hardly recognize you," Mrs. Ouji laughed, patting Bulma's knee. "I'm glad you're here."  
  
"Me too," Bulma said quietly, her eyes darting to Vegeta every now and then. He seemed unaffected by her presence, though, to be fair, he seemed unaffected by his entire environment. She doubted he was seeing the game even with his eyes fixed on the field.  
  
She sighed deeply and vowed not to look at him again for the rest of the game. But she wanted so badly just to hold him and cry in his arms, tell him every last detail and beg to be forgiven. But that would never happen, she'd lost her chance at any sort of a relationship with any of them, and so, with a heavy heart, she watched Midori score a goal.  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Bulma took a seat in the overstuffed chair she was told to sit in. It was only her second time being in this situation, the first having gone horribly wrong. After that she vowed to never set foot in a place like that again, but, when her job was on the line, she had no choice but to break her vow.  
  
"Good morning, Miss Briefs," the woman with wire-rimmed glasses said, setting an official-looking notebook in her lap. "How are you feeling? I understand you're skeptical about this treatment."  
  
"I don't believe I need a shrink. No offense, but I think it's a crock."  
  
"None taken, Miss Briefs. Most people believe the same thing. But please, loosen yourself up to make this better for the both of us. You don't want to be here, and I don't want you here if you're just going to make me and yourself miserable."  
  
Bulma nodded, rolling her eyes when Mrs. Arato looked away and at her paperwork. When she looked up again there was sympathy evident in her eyes. She'd forgotten that she would have the records of her other visits to a psychiatrist.  
  
"Bulma, your…past is very…"  
  
"Depressing?" she offered, settling into her seat. It was going to be a long secession.  
  
"Do you mind if we touch up on it for now? Maybe that will help us learn more precisely you developed your temper."  
  
"Fine," she sighed.  
  
"When did you start dating Mr.—"  
  
"I'd rather you didn't say his name," Bulma said quickly, a hint of emotion shining through.  
  
"Fair enough. When did you start dating him?"  
  
"Two years ago, give or take a few days." Her face was still the mask of indifference, though the more she was prodded, the more she knew she wouldn't be able to keep in. for two years, even since she'd met HIM, she'd kept her emotions to herself. It wasn't until that final night that even her parents find out what had been going on. And by then it was too late to protect her.  
  
"Had how long were you together before he started to change?"  
  
Bulma closed her eyes momentarily, as if she needed to picture the exact moment in order to tell it.  
  
"It was little things," she finally said. "When we were just dating, he would make a big deal about me being absolutely happy. Everything had to be perfect. After we made it official, it was like it didn't matter. Like it was only to get me to be with him. And when I was finally with him the game was over."  
  
"Why didn't you leave then? When it was easy?"  
  
"Because I didn't know how bad it would get. I didn't want to believe that a guy that had been so wonderful could change so drastically. In the first month he stood me up for four dates and never bothered to explain himself. Three months of dating and he'd go days without calling or stopping by…I tried to talk to him about how I felt, but he didn't give me the time of day. And when I tried to break it off, he shoved me into a wall and…well, he made me know that if I left I'd regret it."  
  
"Why didn't you tell your parents? Or friends? Why let him continue doing this to you for two years?"  
  
"Because they all loved him. And I wanted to believe that I could change him. Maybe if we were together long enough he would see what he was doing to me and make it better…Needless to say, that didn't happen."  
  
"When…" Mrs. Arato began, averting her eyes. "When did he first…lay hands on you?"  
  
"We'd been living together for three months. On my eighteenth birthday he practically forced me to move in with him. My parents didn't object, because he went to them first…We got into a huge fight about nothing and I went to leave. He told me I couldn't go, and threw me on the bed…He said…He said he would kill me if I tried to leave again…I felt the first few hits and then I blacked out. I woke up in the hospital three days later…He told them we got into our first fight and I was so upset that I ran off, and just happened to get mugged…Heh. They ate up every word. Didn't even ask me if it was true."  
  
Bulma lifted her head for the first time after beginning her little speech, her face showing visible signs of sadness. If Mrs. Arato hadn't been looking for them, though, she would have missed them completely.  
  
"I let him do that to me for too long," she sighed, shaking her head. "The last time I was in the hospital, I almost didn't make it…" She took a deep breath in an attempt to keep from crying. How many times had she been over this with the other shrink? It hadn't meant anything to her then; she was so numb she hardly thought about what she was saying. Ever since he'd been back to Satan City, her past had been affecting her more and more. "That was when my parents knew something was going on. He skipped town the next day. I haven't seen or heard from him since. He hasn't been in the news or anything…It's like he vanished…" She laughed suddenly, startling Mrs. Arato. The bitterness of it struck a certain cord in her. "I still check the back seat of my car incase he's lurking back there. I can't go out at night without a gun. It's insane…"  
  
"It's unfair," Mrs. Arato said, leaning forward. "Why not go to the police? Surely your parents wanted that."  
  
"Of course they did," she snapped, offended. "They care about it. It's not their fault that I didn't tell them the truth. The first thing they did was call my lawyer. But the moment I said I didn't want any of this in the press, the case drifted away. He was gone and so they couldn't arrest him, and if I didn't want the case public then there could be no case. No celebrity can have legal matters without the entire world knowing about it…I'm just lucky no one knows what he did to me. The last thing I need after that is pity."  
  
"Is that why you didn't tell your friends back home?"  
  
Bulma stared at her in half horror, half anger.  
  
"I read the papers. I guessed that you hadn't told them."  
  
"Yes," she sighed. "That's why. They have every right to be angry with me for not contacting them. They were my best friends for so long and I didn't tell them what was going on in my life? It's awful. I don't deserve their forgiveness or their friendship."  
  
"Bulma," the doctor sighed. "You're being too hard on yourself. How can you blame yourself for what happened to you and how you dealt with it?"  
  
"My secession's over doctor," she said firmly, and walked out without saying good-bye.  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Vegeta rolled unceremoniously out of bed and pulled open the curtains. In his bed, his date from the night before groaned. He glared down at her as if her being there weren't his doing in the least.  
  
"What's the big idea?" she yawned, opening her eyes.  
  
"Get your shit and go home."  
  
"Ass," she muttered, but did as she was told. She really didn't want to be there any more than he wanted her there. She was gone within minutes, leaving him to his raging thoughts. For weeks he'd been suppressing his thoughts about her, but it seemed there was no stopping them. He was more in love with her now than ever, and, what's worse, he was beginning to see it. The hurt was almost too much to stomach.  
  
He walked slowly over to his full-length mirror, his brow heavily knit. But the moment the vision of her entered his mind, his brow softened and he turned away. This was no way to spend a life, wanting and never getting. What was he even still angry about? He missed her more than she'd hurt him. And with her, there HAD to be a perfectly good explanation, he knew it. All that was left was to somehow find out what it was.  
  
Without another thought or concern, he slipped on his boots, grabbed a jacket, and was out the door.  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Bulma cried softly into her pillows, the weight of her life crushing her with relentless force. Her parents were gone for a week on business; she had the household portion of the complex to herself, and she was so lonely. She was not looking forward to working tomorrow, having to face all those people who didn't know her or care about her. They all wanted the same thing; her acting. When she was done, they were done with her.  
  
"I don't want this life anymore," she sobbed, picking herself up. What she needed right now was a nice warm bath. It wouldn't fix anything, but it sure as hell would calm her some. "But what else do I have?" she sighed, turning on the faucet. "Nothing…"  
  
She was just about to get undressed, when she heard a knock at the front door. Normally she wouldn't have thought twice about it, for someone was always around to answer it, but she was absolutely alone; she'd sent all the servants away the moment her parents were gone.  
  
Quickly, so not to seem rude, she shut off the faucet and ran downstairs, a smile set in her features for whoever it may be. Usually a business associate of her father's. When she opened the door, however, her smile quickly faded. She wasn't expecting this in the least.  
  
"Vegeta, what the hell are—"  
  
But her words fell short, as he cupped her face and pulled her in for a kiss they'd both been waiting for their entire lives. Suddenly she wasn't so sad anymore.  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
---Chapter 5!!! Damn I'm mean, huh? Heehee. And I'm really speedy this time, getting them to kiss so soon, but you'll see what my plans are in good time. I promise this won't be some quick 6 chapter fic, or whatever. I plan to have it be at least as long as my others, 20 chapters or more. There's much more I plan on doing with this, so stay tuned! :P  
  
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (ReviewsMore Chapters)  
  
Next time: What's going on!? Kami! :)  
  
Note: Yeah, I realize that it would be pretty hard for Vegeta to get to Bulma's front door, seeing as she's so famous, but let's pretend to not notice :P 


	6. Takao

Last time:  
  
"Vegeta, what the hell are—"  
  
But her words fell short, as he cupped her face and pulled her in for a kiss they'd both been waiting for their entire lives. Suddenly she wasn't so sad anymore.  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
For that moment her world was perfect. All the pain she'd suffered, mental and physical, was nothing in that moment; wiped clean and ready to start fresh. A happiness consumed her that she'd feared she would never feel again. But, just as quickly as that feeling enveloped her, another, all too familiar one, took its place; confusion. Along with mild anger, that she couldn't explain, and a small bit of fear; what was going on!  
  
"Vegeta," she finally said, taking a step back. They couldn't avoid speaking forever. Time didn't stand still the way it teased it could.  
  
"I know," he sighed, brushing past her and into the living room. She followed, hesitantly, taking a seat on the couch opposite the one he was on.  
  
"You're not mad at me anymore?" she said quietly, almost a whisper, as if saying it louder would somehow make it null and void.  
  
"I doubt I ever was…really," he admitted, unable to look at her. "But not coming back is harsh."  
  
Bulma flinched. He was right, but what hurt the most was that it was HIM that she'd hurt, and made him use that word with such conviction. And all these years she thought he could care less.  
  
"There's so much I should tell you," she sighed, shaking her head slowly. "So much I should have told you a long time ago."  
  
"But you're not going to tell me, are you?" he asked, anger evident in his tone; but he restrained himself.  
  
"I don't think I could," she admitted. "Its too…hard. I can say one thing though."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I have not gone one day," she said, lifting her head, her eyes catching his, "without thinking about you, without wanting to give up everything I have and go to you and tell you…tell you what you really mean to me."  
  
"And what could I mean to someone like you?" he spit out without thinking. He didn't intend to be so cruel when he came here.  
  
"Everything," she whispered, tears beginning to breach the rims of her eyes. "But why are you the one that came here? I don't understand. I've been so horrible to you all, especially you, who I care for the most, and you come to me…You shouldn't be here. I'm no good. Not anymore. I don't deserve to see you ever again."  
  
She was halfway off the couch, when she felt his hands gently push her back. He sat beside her, wrapping his muscular arms around her shoulders, and pulled her head to his chest. She was sobbing so hard, she almost didn't hear his words.  
  
"I came because there is nothing for me in Satan City…You took it when you left…"  
  
Her tears seemed to stop in that instant, and she lifted her head and looked him in the eyes, searching them for truth. When he didn't falter, she knew he was telling the truth, and it seemed her heart couldn't handle it. Her breathing quickened and the tears started again, fat droplets staining her cheeks. When she tried to calm herself, it seemed she only got worse. One month ago she was depressed, but content in her life. She was so sure then that nothing would ever change, ever get better. And now, in only a few weeks, her entire world was upside down. Vegeta was sitting beside her, holding her, comforting her; she didn't know what to make of it all, only that it was what she wanted.  
  
"But I don't deserve it," she cried softly, pushing him away. She was standing before he could stop her. By the time he was to his feet as well, she'd run up the stairs. He found her soon enough, curled in a ball on the floor in the third room he checked in; but the pain had already cut deep.  
  
"Why?" was all he needed to say as he knelt down beside her. And all he could think was: What the hell happened to her? What don't I know?  
  
"What I did," she sobbed. "I just…I don't deserve anything from you, or anyone in Satan City. I left and never came back…End of story."  
  
"I don't think so," he said sternly, pushing on her shoulder to face him. He couldn't have done anything more stupid.  
  
"Stop it!" she screamed, clamping her hands over her ears, her entire frame shaking violently. For almost five minutes he could do nothing more than stare at her, shocked into silence. Then, very slowly, very gently, he wrapped his arms around her shivering body, lifted her off the floor, and placed her on the bed on the other side of the room. Her body made a soft thudding sound as she hit the mattress, her head falling back into his lap.  
  
Immediately he noticed her scar.  
  
"Please go," she all but whimpered, unaware of his discovery. But, as his finger quickly touched it, confirming it was real, she bolted up, pressing herself against the headboard.  
  
"Bulma, where—"  
  
"Please, just go!"  
  
"Not until you start telling me what's going on. Bulma, let me see."  
  
"It's not going to change anything," she insisted, looking more scared than anything. Like a jittery field mouse that's just spotted the neighborhood cat, and knows its hungry. "We'd both be better off if you just left now and never came back. I promise I won't bother you, or the others, ever again."  
  
"You think I can feel this way about you and just leave?" he demanded, causing her to flinch. All the fears from two and a half months ago came rushing back. Without thinking, she pushed him as hard as she could and ran into the bathroom, locking herself inside. "Bulma, please!" He banged vehemently on the door, realizing his mistake immediately when she cried out for him to stop. "Please," he pleaded, fear coursing through his veins. Even when facing his uncle, he couldn't remember being so terrified. "Open the door."  
  
"I won't let you hurt me anymore!" she screamed. "I'm leaving, Takao! And you can't stop me this time!"  
  
Vegeta's mind went blank. Takao? Who was she talking about? What the hell was she saying? What—  
  
"Is he the man that hurt you?" he asked, pressing himself against the door in an effort to hear her. She was crying softly by the door. When she didn't answer for a long while, he went to her nightstand, rummaging through the drawers for anything that could unlock that door. All he found were bobby pins, which he doubted would work, seeing as they only worked in movies, but it was all he had. He ran back to the door, stuck the pin in the keyhole, and wrenched it angrily. To his utter surprise, he heard a distinct "clicking" sound. The door was unlocked.  
  
Before Bulma was the wiser, he swung open the door and practically fell to her side. She tried in vein to get away, scratching at his neck and chest, but the more she struggled, the more he held on. He knew it was probably the worst thing for him to do, but how else was he supposed to get her to calm down? To stop screaming?  
  
"Takao, please," she whimpered, her eyes half shut, her head hanging back, as if broken. "Please…"  
  
And then she was completely still and her entire body went limp. Carefully, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to her bed. He sat down, his back to the headboard, and cradled her in his arms. If he had to stay here for days he would. She shut him out once; she was not going to do it again.  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
"Please don't hate me," Bulma sighed, nursing a mug of honey tea. An hour ago she'd awoke to the feeling of being in someone's arms. She thought she was having an amazing dream, but when she opened her eyes, saw Vegeta asleep behind her. And then the events of the night before came rushing back, and she cried softly on his chest until he too woke up. She immediately apologized and went to take a shower. Now, sitting in her robe, her hair wet and hanging on her neck, there was no escaping him. She had to tell him the truth; now.  
  
"I never hated you," he said, grabbing the toast when it popped out of the toaster. He went to the fridge, grabbed a jar of grape jelly, then took a seat opposite her. It was the only time in his life that he'd spent the night at a girl's house and not had sex with her. Not that he whored himself around Satan City. In actuality, he'd only slept with four girls, including his date the night before. But she had been a mistake, a way to keep his mind off his problems. He regretted it completely.  
  
"I feel awful about last night. I never meant for you to experience that. And I'm sorry."  
  
He nodded and took a long sip of his coffee, closing his eyes to feel his burn down his throat. He'd always liked his coffee scalding, though now it did nothing to numb him. He still couldn't get her screaming, terrified voice out of his head. He had no idea that she'd been through so much, and he didn't know the half of it.  
  
"I will tell you," she finally said, as if reading his thoughts. "I just…I need to think of the right words. I still have a hard time talking to my stupid shrink about it." She rolled her eyes and set down her mug.  
  
Vegeta sighed, almost painfully, and reached for a piece of toast. He had it halfway covered in jelly, when he set it down, stood, and went to the chair beside Bulma. She looked at him in confusion for a moment, and by the time she realized what he was thinking, their lips were already pressed together, filling her with that wonderful, glowing happiness. But, at the same time, it reminded her of how cold and empty her life was, and she pulled back and frowned.  
  
"Not now," she whispered, pulling her mug to her lips. "I do care about you Vegeta. More than you know, but I can't deal with us right now."  
  
"And when you're ready?" he asked, his face masking the anxiety he was feeling inside.  
  
"When I'm ready," she sighed, looking at the table, "I will do everything in my power to show you what you mean to me, show you how much you've always meant to me, and that even though…even though we were apart for so long, I…I still fell for you…And no matter how long it takes, I'll make you feel the same."  
  
"You can stop trying," he said, almost startling her. She looked up, catching his eyes immediately, those cold black orbs she'd dreamed of for years. Why didn't she kiss him? What was holding her back? Takao was gone; nothing was stopping her. "I don't want to pretend to hate you anymore," he said after a long pause. His voice was still course, but it was different somehow. Why had she never seen this side of Vegeta? Sure, he'd been there for her several times in the past, but he was always so rough, so violent about the whole thing. Somehow her Vegeta had softened over time, and though it wasn't much, it was enough to keep him at her side for this long, and for that she was beyond grateful.  
  
"How can it work?" she asked, leaning her head in until their foreheads were touching. "Everyone will—"  
  
"No one has to know," he said quickly. "No one knows I'm here now."  
  
"You want to sneak around everyone?" He nodded, giving her a quick kiss on the lips. "Vegeta, how is that going to work? If the press doesn't catch on, my parents will. Someone is bound to find out, and then they'll hate you too for being with me…I can't ask you to do that."  
  
"If they can do that, they're worth nothing to me," he sneered. "And I swear on my parents' grave, that I will protect you. No one will hurt you again." The amount of conviction, and anger, that twisted his face almost made Bulma laugh. He was so different from before, but completely unchanged at the same time. Here he was being spiteful and angry, but he was vowing to protect. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.  
  
"This is insane," she said, and then she did laugh, freely, for the first time in months. Vegeta's eyebrows knit in confusion. "But it's perfect." She smiled up at him, capturing his lips, and pulling him to her for the first time. "I've waited all my life for you," she whispered in his ear, unable to keep from hugging him so tightly. Not that he minded, though, for he'd been waiting just as long for her. "I think now I'm ready to tell you…"  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
"It's been a month," 18 said out of nowhere, her calculus book tumbling to the floor as she stood and went for the phone. Krillin, ever practical, grabbed her wrist at the last second and brought her back to the bed. "Krillin Roshi," she seethed. "You let go of me right now."  
  
"Be rational, hun," he said, letting go. "If you're going to call her, you need to think about what you're going to say. And you need to tell Chi-Chi first."  
  
"Kuso," she swore under her breath. "Yeah, you're right. Why are you always right?"  
  
"Someone needs to be," he joked, tackling her to the bed. "I don't feel like doing homework anymore," he said, leaning down to capture her lips.  
  
"Me neither, cue ball. How's Play Station sound?"  
  
"I love you," he laughed, pulling her closer.  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Goku stretched his arms out, giving way to a deep yawn, and catching the attention of the rest of the class. The teacher frowned at him from her desk, then went back to her paperwork, waiting for the rest of the class to finish their tests. It was a culinary class, so any exam, written or otherwise, Goku almost always scored perfectly.  
  
"Hey 18," he whispered, tapping her on the shoulder from behind. "Where's Vegeta?" He looked to the empty seat beside him, as if confirming what he already knew.  
  
"I don't know," she hissed, not looking back. She hated cooking, in any form, and despised this class. "17 called him this morning about some assignment, and his uncle said he's been gone since yesterday. Doesn't know where he is."  
  
Goku sulked back into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Where could Vegeta be?  
  
A few moments later, the bell rang, causing several students to groan and drop their pencils. Goku and 18 walked out of the classroom together to go to lunch.  
  
"Did he mention anything to you?" Goku asked, slipping his backpack into his locker before they went to the cafeteria.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Vegeta."  
  
"He'd tell you or 17 before he told me."  
  
"How is 17 doing anyway?" He bit his lip almost nervously. It was very obvious why he'd been so distant from the others lately. "I haven't seen him in awhile."  
  
"He's dealing with it," she said with an offhanded gesture. "He wants some time to himself before he comes back to the group."  
  
"But he still hangs out with you and Vegeta?"  
  
"He couldn't beat Vegeta off with a stick," she laughed, swinging her bag over her shoulder, and heading towards the lunchroom. "He wanted so badly to be alone right now, but Vegeta wouldn't have it. And 17 had been so sure that he'd be the most likely to agree that they not see each other for a while…I guess everyone underestimates what kind of a person Vegeta is."  
  
"What about your dad?"  
  
"Dad's livid," she sighed. She pushed through a group of cheerleaders to get into the cafeteria; Goku tried his best to keep up. "If me and Vegeta hadn't been there, I think he would have thrown him out. It's not fair, but that's dad. Same asshole he's always been." She turned around as someone tapped her on the shoulder, smiling at her three-minute-older brother. "Hey bro."  
  
"Hey," he said, smiling meekly. "Hey Goku."  
  
"Hey," Goku said, trying his best not to make 17 feel uncomfortable.  
  
"Can I talk to you?" 17 said to his sister, tugging gently on her arm.  
  
"Sure…Goku, I'll catch up with you."  
  
"Right."  
  
He waited for Goku to walk away before saying another word.  
  
"I need your help with something," he admitted, shying away.  
  
"Name it."  
  
"Can you set me up with someone? I know you know a lot more people than everyone I know; you're friends with almost everyone. You would know better than me who I can date."  
  
"You're too cute, big brother," she laughed, patting him on the back. "Have anyone in mind?"  
  
He blushed furiously and nodded.  
  
"And?"  
  
"Azumamaro Baba," he whispered in her ear, his cheeks reddening further.  
  
"Great choice. We go way back. When were you planning on having this date?"  
  
"Friday night, of choice," he laughed, feeling completely comfortable now. He always knew his sister would back him one hundred percent. Vegeta had been a major surprise, but a very welcome one. Goku and the others were supportive as well, of course, but he could only deal with so many people, and, seeing as 18 was his sister and Vegeta refused to stop seeing him, he made a choice to only hang out with them for now. Soon, he hoped, he'd be able to be around the others, but there was still so much he needed to learn about himself first.  
  
"Perfect. I'll tell Baba next period."  
  
She was about to walk away, when he caught her arm again and pulled her into a great bear hug.  
  
"Thanks sis," he sighed, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "For everything."  
  
"What are sisters for?" she shrugged, though couldn't help her smile. "And don't worry. I've known Baba forever. You're perfect for him."  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
"Hey Vegeta," 17 said, walking into his room without knocking.  
  
Vegeta looked up and nodded, the phone cradled on his shoulder. He motioned for him to sit down, and that he'd be done in a minute.  
  
"You are?" he sighed to the person on the other line. "Why?…I know, but…Ok. Fine…Yes…No…Well, you just wait 'til the lights go out," he laughed. "Really? I'm that dumb. Thanks for clarifying…Alright…Yeah…Bye."  
  
"Who was that?" 17 asked, eyeing the phone as he hung it up.  
  
"A date."  
  
"I've never heard you talk to a date like that."  
  
"Yeah, well, I've never seen you kiss a guy 'til now. Things change." He slid off the bed, went to his mini-fridge in the corner, and grabbed two cans of beer. He handed one to 17, then sat next to him on the bed, cracking open his own.  
  
"Technically," 17 said, opening his can and taking a swig, "I haven't kissed any guys…yet."  
  
"Yeah, well, 18 told me you're going on a date with Baba." He couldn't hold in his laughter, nearly spitting out his beer. "Kami, you and Baba. I always knew that football player was queer."  
  
"Why do you think I asked 18 to set me up with him?"  
  
"Makes sense."  
  
"Vegeta, why are you so cool with this? I was the more terrified to tell you than even my dad, and you're the best with it. I don't get it."  
  
"What do I care what you do in your bed?" he shrugged, taking a big gulp of beer. "Besides, I always knew you were gay. You didn't hide it very well." 17's eyes widened slightly and then he nodded. "Remember when I beat up those seniors last year?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Why do you think I did?"  
  
17 shrugged.  
  
"They were saying shit about you. Calling you a fag or whatever morons say. So I knocked them out."  
  
"You're a better person than you let people know," 17 said, standing up and tossing his empty can in the trash.  
  
"If everyone knew how wonderful I was," he laughed, "then I'd be swarmed with fans and groupies…I like my solitude."  
  
"Are you ever going to tell me where you were last night? Why you came home at four o'clock this afternoon?"  
  
"Not likely," he said, frowning a little. "And not right now."  
  
"Someday."  
  
"I sure fucking hope so."  
  
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---Chapter 6!! Hmm…Interesting twists I'm adding, huh? :P And 17 is gay! Heehee. I think its adorable. I've never written him gay before, though I've thought about it. I think it fits him better anyway; I mean, think about the scarf and socks from DBZ. Heehee!  
  
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Next time: Can Bulma and Vegeta keep their relationship secret forever? And what's the whole story with Bulma's past? 


	7. Slowly But Surely

Last time:  
  
"Someday."  
  
"I sure fucking hope so."  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Taisho relaxed on the living room couch, the low hum of the radio in the background, as he read a book, perched on his chest. It was a perfect autumn day; not too cold, and just sunny enough that everyone wanted to be outside. The leaves were well into their yearly cycle, the crisp reds, yellows, and oranges dotting the trees, and falling to the ground with a ballerina's grace.  
  
It was the perfect day.  
  
Well, almost perfect.  
  
Taisho sat up suddenly as he felt the presence of someone in the room. Without looking, he knew exactly who it was, who it had to be.  
  
"Going somewhere, Vegeta?" he asked, turning to him.  
  
"Not that it's any of your business," Vegeta sneered back. "But yes. Do I need your approval, cousin?"  
  
"When are you coming back?"  
  
"Are we playing twenty questions? Or do you just enjoy pissing me off?"  
  
"Bulma's coming over tonight. I don't want anything to make her uncomfortable."  
  
"Thanks for the warning," he laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You two are getting awfully close," he commented, leaning on the doorframe. "What's Ayano make of all this?"  
  
"She trusts me," he said firmly. "And I don't love Bulma that way."  
  
"You don't LOVE her that way?" he laughed. "Interesting way of putting it."  
  
"I thought you were going somewhere." Taisho pulled himself from the couch, setting his book on the coffee table.  
  
"I was, but then someone had to ask me a million and one inane questions about someone I couldn't give two shits about…Are we done?"  
  
Taisho eyed him like a predator hunting its prey. He'd never really gotten along with Vegeta very well, but ever since Bulma came to visit, there had been this unspoken, fiery hatred between them. Neither could explain it, though neither cared and were content with letting it build. One day they would both break, but not today.  
  
"We've been done," Taisho finally spat, pushing past him and up the stairs.  
  
Vegeta shook his head, letting out a quiet chuckle.  
  
"If you only knew."  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Vegeta sat up quickly, grabbed for his Jai-Alai cesta and ball, the equipment used in the only sport he felt was worthy enough to play, and peered into the darkness. Across the room he saw a figure standing in the doorway, long hair frame the face that was only barely outlined by the moonlight.  
  
"It's only me," whispered a familiar and soothing voice.  
  
He sighed deeply, set down his weapon, and climbed out of bed.  
  
"What time is it?" he whispered almost angrily, as he approached her, careful not to trip over anything he might have left out.  
  
"Almost two," she said, annoyance evident in her voice. "Me and Tai talked for a long time, and I wanted to wait at least an hour being attempting to come in here." Quietly, she turned and closed the door, locking it with a soft click. "I love your brother to death, but kami, all I could think about was y—"  
  
But before she could finish the last word, he had his arms around her, pressing her as close to himself as he could without hurting her, his kisses urgent and passion-filled. She met his need effortlessly, her hands roaming his entire body, unable to settle in one place.  
  
"We can't get away with this forever," she breathed, his lips now suckling at the tender flesh of her neck and collarbone.  
  
"Then let's enjoy the time we have," he said, his characteristic smirk curling his lip upward.  
  
"Oh Kami," she moaned, arching her back. He collected her tenderly in his arms and carried her to his bed, laying her down as if she were breakable. Immediately, she pulled him on top of her, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, her fingers working almost nervously to undo his belt.  
  
"Slow down," he laughed softly, kissing her moist forehead. "I've waited too long for this moment to let it end so quickly."  
  
She nodded in agreement, kissing him feverishly.  
  
"Can you believe this is really happening?" she whispered, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "A month ago I was dreaming of this, and now it's real…Tell me it's real!" she all but whimpered, thrusting her hips.  
  
"Woman," he sighed, pulling her shirt over her head and dropping it on the floor. "This is the most real I've felt my entire life…But you will always be worthy of my dreams," he said huskily, leaning down to press hot kisses into her heaving breasts.  
  
Slowly, she lifted her head to place a hard kiss on his warm forehead, as her hands worked to pull off his pajama bottoms, the only clothing he was wearing. When they were finally fully undressed, the world went into slow motion. For a long while, they simply stared into each other's eyes, as if confirming the existence of the other, and swelling with happiness and excitement when they knew without a doubt that they were where they'd always wanted to be. It was real; it was destiny.  
  
"I'm guessing you're not a virgin," Vegeta said, positioning himself so not to crush her. She only laughed, tugging at his lips with her own. Then she gave way to nibbling, in an effort to urge him on. He obliged, making sure his lips were tight with hers, before pushing slow, but hard into her. A soft moan escaped her mouth and entered his, muffling it from unwanted listeners. She turned her head to the side, resting her cheek on his shoulder; she had to bite her bottom lip, almost to the point of drawing blood, just to keep from crying out.  
  
But then it all went horribly wrong.  
  
As his thrusts grew faster, his urgency more aggressive, Bulma's mind began to bulge and project unwanted images. Takao's face loomed over her, and the more she tried to push it away, the more vivid it became, until she couldn't bear it. Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes, and instead of trying to hold back moans, she was desperately fighting to keep from sobbing. But, inevitably, Vegeta looked down at her, shocked still when he saw her tears.  
  
"Bulma," he whispered, kissing her cheeks frantically. "It's me. It's Vegeta."  
  
"I know," she cried softly, pressing her forehead into his shoulder. "But I can't get him out of my head…Vegeta," she sniffed. "I need help…I can't do this alone…"  
  
All he could do in that moment was hold her. Hold her and pray that he could find the help she needed, that he could somehow help her too.  
  
"Don't leave me tonight," she whispered as he slid off her, pulling her to his chest.  
  
"I won't," he promised, kissing the top of her head. "Just sleep. I'll make sure you're back in the guestroom before anyone wakes up."  
  
"You're too good to me," she sighed, her eyes closing against her will. He waited until she was fast asleep before he attempted to move. He slipped out of bed without disturbing her in the least, and fumbled in the dark until he reached his desk, where he booted up his computer, and searched the net until the break of dawn for anything that could cure his secret girlfriend.  
  
He was both successful and unsuccessful in his search, and, with a heavy sigh, turned off his computer and brought Bulma back into the guestroom so not to cause an uproar.  
  
"I won't let you down," he whispered angrily, his back against the guestroom door.  
  
Inside, Bulma was wide-awake, her eyes fixed on the barely lighted door.  
  
"I know you won't," she answered, knowing he couldn't hear her, and hugged a pillow to her chest. "But I know I will…"  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Chi-Chi let her pen drop from her mouth, making a quiet thump sound as it hit the open book in her lap. 18 sat, legs crossed, opposite her, her face held in perfect calm. But, then again, her blonde friend could almost always appear calm in even the most extreme of situations.  
  
But Chi-Chi could see in her clear blue eyes that she was beginning to falter, that at this point in time what she wanted was more important then remaining stone cold. And suddenly, though it was expected, 18's lips sank into a deep frown and she averted her eyes.  
  
"I can't stop you," Chi-Chi finally said, picking up her pen and placing it behind her ear. "I don't understand, though. You were more angry than me."  
  
"I know," 18 sighed, moving her head from side to side in a contemplative gesture. "It's just…I don't know. I can't forget how close we used to be, and how…devastated she looked when I was yelling at her…Chi, I think something happened to her and she's not telling us. I talked to Taisho the other day, and he said he sees it too."  
  
"You think she can justify leaving us with a sappy love story? Isn't that what she started to tell us a month and a half ago? I'm sorry, but a boyfriend would never keep me from my friends."  
  
"I don't think it's that simple, Chi-Chi. I think she was forced to stay in Watanabe City."  
  
"Forced," Chi-Chi repeated, trying to imagine someone who could keep Bulma Briefs against her will successfully. "I highly doubt it, 18. She was all smiles when she came back. I think she realized how bad she screwed up and regrets it, which she should. We were nothing but good to her and she turned her back on us."  
  
"Will you hate me if I call her? Just to talk, maybe."  
  
"Like I said," she said, turning her attention back to her homework, "I can't stop you."  
  
"And you don't want to?"  
  
She thought for a long while, then looked up and firmly said, "No. And I don't know if I ever will."  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Piercing glares followed Bulma's hand as she reached into her pocket to answer her ringing cellular phone; she could have sworn she'd turned it off.  
  
"Sorry," she said nervously, avoiding the director's eyes. "This better be good," she all but hissed at the person on the other line. "I'm in the middle of a scene."  
  
"Kuso," came a familiar female voice. And the line went dead.  
  
Bulma cursed under her breath, made sure her phone was now off, and slipped it back into her pocket.  
  
"Was it important enough to interrupt?" the director asked haughtily.  
  
"Obviously not," Bulma snapped back. "They hung up."  
  
"Yes, well, maybe next time you'll respect me and your fellow actors and keep that damn thing off."  
  
"Maybe I will."  
  
"Whatever," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "On with the damn scene." She flicked her wrist in command, and the scene was in motion.  
  
An hour later, angry and warn out, Bulma climbed into her car and turned on her cell phone. She quickly punched the right sequence of buttons to bring up caller ID. At first, she didn't recognize the phone number that had called an hour ago, but, slowly, the numbers were realized and she let out a small gasp.  
  
It was 18.  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
"Ok 17," 18 groaned as she answered the phone. "You're at his house. Now go have sex."  
  
"18?" came a feminine voice, almost startling her.  
  
"B-Bulma?"  
  
"Yeah…"  
  
"Kuso. I'm sorry. I thought you were 17. He called twice in five minutes, and—"  
  
"It's ok," Bulma said, trying to remain calm. Finally, finally they were beginning to reach out to her. But at the same time she realized that it was only 18 who was contacting her; no one else cared. "You called me before?"  
  
"Yeah. Sorry about that. I called your house and your dad said you were at work, but that you should be on your way home, so I called. I didn't mean to interrupt anything."  
  
"It's my fault. I should have had my phone off. Don't worry about it."  
  
And then calm the silence; that long, agonizing silence in which your thoughts are spiraling out of control and the only thing you can focus on is the faint breathing of the person on the other line. Several times both girls tried to push words from their mouths, but it seemed they were temporarily mute.  
  
"Bulma, I'm so—"  
  
"Please forgi—"  
  
A shorter silence followed this time, and it was 18 who finally spoke a clear message.  
  
"I can't stand not having you around anymore," she whispered. "I'm sorry I got so angry, and I forgive you for not coming back. I know you have your reasons, but if you don't want to tell me that's fine."  
  
"I don't deserve this," Bulma sighed.  
  
"I think I should be the judge of that. And I don't want to be mad anymore."  
  
"Fair enough," she said, still extremely uneasy, but also a pulsating excitement coursed through her, and the first thing that came to mind was that she wanted to tell her everything; about her job, about her mess with Takao, and her two-week-old relationship with Vegeta. But, of course, none of this was possible; not right now anyway, not in their first civil conversation in years.  
  
"Are you going to be in town anytime soon?" 18 asked, breaking Bulma's train of thought.  
  
"Do you want me there?" She regretted her words the moment they left her lips, and tried to apologize.  
  
"Of course I do," 18 laughed. "When aren't you busy?"  
  
"Two weeks," she said after a moment. "I get a break from filming Friday through Monday…I…could come up then, maybe."  
  
"I think that would be great." She was about to say good-bye, when a thought occurred to her, one she knew had occurred to Bulma as well. "Don't worry. I'll talk to Chi-Chi. She's just…"  
  
"I know. I understand completely. Just try to let her see how much you guys mean to me. And, if its not too much trouble, could you talk to Goku and Krillin too. I know I don't know Krillin all that well, but he's important to you, and I just want to make amends with everyone."  
  
"And Vegeta?"  
  
The pang of guilt struck her so hard she was sure 18 sensed her sudden nervousness, that had all but vanished over that last few minutes. But it was back now, and her heart was pumping.  
  
"I…I'll deal with Vegeta on my own."  
  
"Fair enough. He is the most stubborn," she laughed.  
  
"Yeah," Bulma said, trying to force some laughter, and this time her on-edge-vibe didn't no unnoticed.  
  
"You ok? You sound…troubled."  
  
"Nothing, really…It's just never going to be easy talking about him, you know?"  
  
"Unfortunately I do…Kuso. I have a beep, and I should get going anyway. Call me before you come, ok?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Stupid 17. He's probably calling me again."  
  
"Kami, 17," Bulma sighed. "How is he, anyway?"  
  
"B, I—"  
  
"Sorry. I know. The beep. I'll talk to you later."  
  
"Great."  
  
"Bye."  
  
"See ya."  
  
Neither girl could keep from smiling for the remainder of the day.  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
"Fuck," Vegeta groaned, rolling his eyes. "Are you serious?"  
  
"Yes, Vegeta," Bulma snapped. Why was he being such a pain about this? "What's wrong with that?"  
  
"What's wrong is that now that you're buddying up with 18 again, you'll spend time with her AND my no good cousin. Then where are we?"  
  
"I don't have the time or energy to deal with this right now Vegeta. I have lines to memorize, contracts to go over, and publicity crap to deal with. This is the least of my worries." And with that she hung up the phone, leaving him angry and confused.  
  
He had her, she was his now, but was it even worth it?  
  
In Watanabe City, Bulma threw her script across the room, screaming angrily that it was a stupid, half-brained, kindergarten story. But she knew, even if she was too stubborn to admit it, that she had wronged Vegeta. Of course he wasn't going to take that well; they had limited time together as it was, and, with the sneaking around, their time was cut significantly.  
  
She took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialed his number. After four rings he answered. He was obviously still angry.  
  
"I'm sorry, Vegeta," she sighed. "I just have a lot on my plate right now. I guess I was hoping you'd take it better, but you can't expect me to not see 18. I care about her too much."  
  
"I know," he said after a long while. "Next time don't be such a bitch."  
  
"Will do," she laughed. "I love you, Vegeta."  
  
"Bye woman."  
  
"Bye 'Geta."  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
---Chapter 7!! :D Ok, so I know not a whole lot happened in this chapter, but hey! Bulma and 18 are friends again, or well on their way, so that's a plus :) Oh yeah! And they had sex, duh! How could I forget that? :P  
  
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Next time: MORE FUN! :D 


	8. Discoveries

Last time:  
  
"I know," he said after a long while. "Next time don't be such a bitch."  
  
"Will do," she laughed. "I love you, Vegeta."  
  
"Bye woman."  
  
"Bye 'Geta."  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Vegeta paced his room, much resembling a lion walking the length of its cage in anger at the zoo, the area beneath his feet starting to wear. From what he'd found two days ago, the millions of sites he'd visited about Bulma's condition, not a whole lot of it was helpful. And none of it was comforting. It occurred to him several times that speaking with a professional psychologist at a local institution might be easier, but he the moment those thoughts entered his mind, he threw them back out. He refused to believe that Bulma was THAT helpless. The last thing he needed was someone telling him that the love of his life needed to be put in a straight jacket and locked in a padded room.  
  
Of course, she wasn't anywhere near that serious. Her mind was just stuck, traumatized. A little therapy, with the right person, should help her in no time. The problem, though, was that speaking with psychiatrists didn't seem to help her at all. She was currently seeing her second one in three months, and while she admitted that she was opening up more with this woman, she also confessed that she knew she'd go nowhere with it, just like she went nowhere with the other doctor.  
  
Finally, after what seemed like hours of thought, Vegeta decided what he would do. First, of course, he would discuss things thoroughly with Bulma, go over his ideas, and see if she had some of her own. Then, he'd personally look into everything, with or without her, and make sure she actually made an honest effort to accept the help give her. If she didn't, then he'd have to start at square one.  
  
The idea exhausted him.  
  
Then something occurred to him. When he was young, after his parents died, he was taken to see a shrink for years. And while he was very young and really didn't understand what was going on, he still made a conscious effort to repel the people that tried to help him. He went to four different doctors before his aunt and uncle decided that it would be best for him to just deal with the loss in his own way. Maybe it was just natural to shut out the people that tried to help you, those that devoted their lives to helping others. He also thought, however, that his guardians' decision to cut off his therapy was rash and selfish. They couldn't understand his attachment to his parents. Few people he knew had been so dependant on those that raised them as he was. After they died, it was like he was seeing the world from behind a screen; doomed to look and never interact. True, he shut himself out purposefully, but what else did they expect him to do? Accept it and move on?  
  
For years he'd allowed his anger to consume him, loathing those that he lived with, while protecting those he cared for as if he were a parent himself. No one ever made that connection when he helped them, but every time someone was in need of his help, his parents' image was constantly in his mind's eye, tormenting him with their perfect smiles and loving eyes. Yes, he would be bitter and hateful to everyone, but he would balance it out with the sporadic kindness to his friends. Subconsciously he prayed that balance would balance him out.  
  
"This is going nowhere," he hissed aloud to himself, and picked up the phone. From what she'd told him, Bulma should be home by now. When she finally picked up the phone after three long rings, he almost couldn't contain himself. When had he felt this strongly before? And why did he, Vegeta Ouji, deserve this happiness? But it was no time to think of such things. Enjoy the moment, live for it, because in the end he knew these moments would be his solace against his inner evil.  
  
"I was wondering if you were going to call," she said, shaking his thoughts loose.  
  
"I told you I was," he said, monotone, curling the computer printout nervously into a tube. How to bring it up? "How bad did you fuck up your lines today?"  
  
"Not so bad," she laughed. Just as she remember. Well, almost. But then again, she was seeing a totally different side to him that most never even guessed could be there. "The director only yelled at me once. I think she yells at different people different days, 'cause most of her attention was on my co-star, Hisaki. She really grilled him today. Poor guy."  
  
"Why the hell are you in that Kami forsaken place?" he suddenly snapped, taking a seat on his bed and leaning into his pillows. He hadn't washed his sheets since their night together; they still smelled like her, and it was absolutely maddening. "It's hideous," he added quickly, before she could say a word.  
  
"Vegeta," she sighed. "You know I would move back to Satan City in a heartbeat, but I can't leave my family. You know that, too. They've been everything to me my entire life, and especially in the last four years. I didn't have you or the others; I had them."  
  
"You're 18. You can leave."  
  
"But I won't."  
  
"Won't," he scoffed. "Whatever."  
  
"Vegeta, please don't do this. I don't want to fight you over this. It's not going to change my mind. All it's going to do is upset us both. And its unfair of you to even think you could convince me to leave my family. What about you? You tell me you can't stand your aunt and uncle, but you're still there? Why don't you come live here?"  
  
"I have school, woman."  
  
"Yeah, until, what? May? June? That's seven months, Vegeta. I think we can last seven months with this arrangement. Besides, I think we need to get to know each other better before I get back into that bed with you. We moved too fast. We need to know more about each other. Kuso, Vegeta! I've been gone for four years. There have to be some things I don't know about you. I know there are things you don't know about me!"  
  
"If that's what you want," he sighed after a moment, letting the papers drop from his fingers onto his lap. What was the use in fighting her over this?  
  
"Yes, that's what I want. I'll be in town in two weeks. It's a Friday. I'm staying with 18 until Monday."  
  
"And then you're going home," he groaned, rolling his eyes. When he went to see her, to ask her to be with him, something he knew she wanted as he wanted, he never suspected he'd have to sneak around and hardly see her. Their relationship had hardly started, and already it was going downhill.  
  
"Not quite." His ears perked. The tone of her voice gave him the image of her beaming smile. It gave him a satisfying chill. "I told 18 I had a mini-vacation from Friday to Monday. But I don't have to be back to work until Wednesday night. The director is having surgery, and she doesn't want us practicing without being under her supervision."  
  
Vegeta's face brightened into an actual smile for a split second. But then he remembered their fight, how her wanting to stay there had cut him, and he frowned.  
  
"You're coming here then?"  
  
"How?" she asked, sounding almost shocked.  
  
"What do you mean how? Drive over."  
  
"Vegeta, we're not supposed to be seen together. What do you plan on doing? Shutting me in your room for two days?"  
  
"Something like that," he said, that old seduction in his voice.  
  
"I have a better idea." She paused for effect, taking a small breath. "I'm going to rent a cheap room under an alias downtown. We can spend time there during the day, and I can come to your house for the night; slip out before dawn in the morning."  
  
"And school? You want me to skip two days?"  
  
"Well, I—"  
  
"'Cause I think that's brilliant."  
  
"Ass," she muttered. "Don't scare me like that."  
  
"But it's so easy, woman," he laughed. It seemed now that all the weight of her condition had been lifted and he was able to breathe easy for the first time in hours. "So, what're you wearing?"  
  
"I have to go," she sighed, smiling. "I'll call you tomorrow maybe. If I have time."  
  
"Yeah, whatever. Bye."  
  
"Vegeta."  
  
"What?"  
  
"A smile and bubbles." Before he could utter a sound, she hung up the phone, set it down, and sunk low into her bubble bath. Her life was perfect now. Nothing could go wrong.  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
"Krillin!" 18 snapped, throwing a couch pillow at him as he walked into her house unannounced. "Get the hell out!"  
  
"I love you too," he said, picking up the pillow and tossing it back to her.  
  
"Bulma will be here in twenty minutes!"  
  
"Oh yeah," he sighed, shrugging his shoulders unintentionally. Immediately she felt awful, and stood, enveloping him into a warm and comforting hug, a hug she knew would produce a smile in a matter of moments. He had once told her that the reason he loved her hugs so much was that most others perceived her as cold and distant and uncaring, but when she hugged him there was this overwhelming love and compassion she emitted. And it made him love her even more to know that only he, and a select group of others, knew this benevolent inner person that was the true 18 Gero. "I understand," he said after recovering from the initial euphoria of her touch. "I'm an ass for forgetting. You've been talking about it all week. I'm too used to routine."  
  
"You know its fine, cueball. And its not like I'm not going to see you at all while she's here. She mentioned that she wants to get to know you better, so you'll definitely be here. And 17, well, you know how he is. He'll cling to Bulma because he can't deal with another who lives here."  
  
"I wish I could be here for you when she comes," he sighed, pressing his head into the crook of her neck. "But I know its something you need to do on your own."  
  
"You know how much I need your support."  
  
"But…"  
  
"But you also know how stubborn I am," she laughed, nudging his chin with her finger and captured his lips. He moaned softly into her, then released her and walked out without another word. No. He couldn't stay there; they'd already decided it. But could anyone blame him for trying? He found it hard to believe that she bought that he'd forgotten about today. Oh well, it was usual protocol for them; play the game for as long as the illusion is comfortable. He wondered when that comfort would go away.  
  
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They embraced each other for so long it seemed they'd been in that doorway for hours before anyone said a word. The sun was just beginning to drop in the sky, the cool evening air sweeping in and softening the overall mood. How many years had this moment been in the making? The moment in which there was no ill feeling hanging in the background, where no ill feelings would come and ruin the first, stunning rush.  
  
17 stood, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe between the kitchen and living room, watching as his sister and Bulma stood, locked in each other's arms, their eyes closed, the rest of the world shut out. He smiled softly at the sight; 18 had been miserable without Bulma, even when she was convinced she would never see her old friend again, she wouldn't let go. And now, she was latching on more than ever. He wondered how Bulma would react to his presence. Surely it would be a moment to remember; interesting to say the least. He couldn't remember the last time he'd talked to her.  
  
Finally, when they couldn't stand it any longer, the girls released each other. Bulma's arms dropped to her sides, while 18 held her friend at arm's length, simply studying her for one last moment before they would have to speak. The time had come, and, across the room, 17 could feel the tension. It was chilling, but he couldn't turn away now. No matter how angry he knew his sister would be when she saw him, he also knew that subconsciously she wanted him there, ever ready to pull her into his arms and comfort any wounds. Of course, it was clear that this visit would not end in disaster. They'd tiptoed around the idea this time; it wasn't spur of the moment, it wasn't rash and sudden and built up to this amazing spectacle. It was plain and ordinary and full of sweet emotion. They loved each other completely.  
  
And now they would speak, and the tension would lift, and he would be discovered.  
  
"How was your trip?" 18 asked, not once taking her eyes off Bulma. "Did a cavalcade follow you here?"  
  
"It was nice," Bulma answered, slipping from her grasp with such ease and grace, it appeared that 18 had let her go. 17 knew better. "I didn't see anyone follow me, thankfully. But who knows who could find me. Hopefully I'll only be in the papers for a week after this," she laughed, hefting her medium sized duffel bag over her shoulder. She was about to set it down next to the couch, when she straightened herself up and smiled. "17."  
  
18 spun on her heels and glared at her brother, giving him a look at said more than the words that came next. "I thought you were going out," she said, approaching him. She was inches from him when she stopped, pulling his crossed arms loose, and grasping his wrist. He was standing before Bulma before he knew what was happening. "I'll be right back. I'm calling Baba. I hope you're ready for a night out."  
  
"Don't bother," he said, wriggling his wrist free and giving his sister a brotherly kiss on the forehead. Silently, Bulma was stunned. She didn't remember the twins being so affectionate with one another. "I'm leaving in an hour."  
  
"With Baba?"  
  
"Of course. Vegeta too."  
  
"Interesting," 18 laughed, and took a step back.  
  
Almost immediately, Bulma found herself in 17's warm embrace. She could feel the tight rippling muscles of his arms pressed softly into her. He was gorgeous; a man now. She imagined a hundred girls hanging on his arms in the halls and everywhere he went. But something struck her as abnormal about that thought, though she couldn't put her finger on it.  
  
"You're beautiful," he whispered in her ear, then leaned his head back, and gently brushed some hair behind her ear. "I missed you, you know."  
  
"I missed you, too," she admitted, her cheeks reddening. And it was now, his hands still tentatively touching her, that she realized that she'd missed him deeply. Tears fought to hug her eyes, but, inevitably, a few fell free and streamed down her cheeks.  
  
Quickly, he kissed them away, and pressed his lips against her forehead, his arms loose around her waist. There was such a strong love between them, and it hurt her through and through to think that she'd neglected it for so long.  
  
"It's alright," 17 whispered, crouching slightly to look her in the eye. "I know and I forgive you, if you can forgive me."  
  
Bulma nodded quickly, burying her face in his shoulder. When they separated finally, it was because she pulled away and sat uncertainly on the arm of the couch behind her. 17 stepped back, smiled, and left the room to get ready to go out.  
  
"I'm sorry," Bulma sighed, looking at her feet. "I'm so used to a whole different life. Being here changes me completely."  
  
"Shut up," 18 laughed, pulling her to her feet. "Why wouldn't you miss 17? You two were close, closer than I knew. 17 dealt with your move in his own way. And he loves you all the more for not drawing it out on him."  
  
"I feel awful for not writing to him…Not once…How could I?"  
  
"Well, let's make it simple," 18 said, picking up Bulma's duffel bag and motioning for her to follow her. "You were a bitch then, and you're not now. It's a big lie, but let's pretend its true and move on."  
  
"Alright," Bulma laughed, as they walked through the familiar halls of the Gero residence. Their father was, of course, not there. He'd never been around in the past either. Bulma could scarcely remember him. "So, what are we doing tonight?"  
  
"You, my friend, are in for quite the ride," 18 laughed, and closed the door behind them.  
  
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Bulma held the stitch in her side, almost panting as she tried to calm herself down. It was four o'clock in the morning, and they were nowhere near sleep. They'd done everything from playing video games, making a huge mess while cooking dinner, to talking and joking for hours into the night.  
  
"Kami," she sighed, leaning back. "You need to shut up before I collapse."  
  
"It's true, I swear," 18 insisted.  
  
"Right, right. We need more margaritas," she said, gesturing to their empty pitcher. "I'll get it."  
  
She was halfway done preparing their drinks, when she heard several car doors slam and the low cacophony of voices advance towards the house. She set down the pitcher and crept slowly towards the dark living room, hiding just out of view in the doorway, the same doorway 17 had stood in for so long before being noticed.  
  
Her entire body tensed as the door slowly swung open, and three shadowed figures walked in. Two were unmistakenable, and the other she suspected was 17's mystery date. They stood in such a way that only their heads were identifiable shapes, their bodies a mass of black. And then one of them, Vegeta, stepped away and left the other two embracing each other in the open door. She watched, her heart sinking, as his shape passed the kitchen window.  
  
And then the living room erupted in a flood of light and she let out a tiny gasp, covering her mouth so not to be heard. 17 stood, his flowing black hair caressing his face, as another man was pressed against him, whispering inaudible affections in his ear. They touched each other with such unbridled abandon that Bulma was sure they'd been in love their entire lives. And when they kissed, their hands moving over one another, she felt a rush of emotion crowd around her.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow, number one," the taller, slightly muscular man, whispered lustfully to 17, his fingers playing with his silken locks.  
  
"Please stay," 17 almost pleaded, kissing his lover feverishly. "My dad's never here. He'll never know you were here."  
  
"And my father?" he laughed softly. "My mother? The king and queen of this miserable city? What would they say when their prince wasn't there in the morning? They would know where I was in a heartbeat, and I'd never see you again."  
  
"I hate them," 17 sighed, but nodded. "One of these days they're going to have to accept who you are."  
  
"Yes, well, right now they're content with verbally abusing me for loving you. I dream about the day the rest of the city knows, and then they'll flee in their stupid, childish shame, and I can have you by my side forever."  
  
Across the room, Bulma's eyes widened and her jaw fell loose. This boy, 17's lover, wasn't an ordinary boy. He was Azumamaro Baba, son of Hogai and Maemi Baba, Satan City's richest, and therefore most powerful, family. When the Briefs had lived here, the Babas had been their archrivals, but neither family failed to attend an event at their enemies' home.  
  
"I love you, number one," she heard Azumamaro whisper, kissing 17's lips tenderly. "And when you think of my evil family, remember that."  
  
"I hardly know you," 17 sighed, returning the kiss, his visible hand raked in Azumamaro's wavy deep violet hair. "But I love you, too."  
  
Bulma was about to turn away and return to 18's room, when she was pulled back abruptly, a hand clamped over her mouth, preventing her from yelling out.  
  
"Quiet woman," a voice whispered, their face nuzzled in her neck. Her body relaxed instantly, and she spun around, her face beaming.  
  
"Vegeta," she sighed, kissing him affectionately. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Bringing those love-sick pansies home," he laughed. "Don't look at me like that. Nothing in this world could make me turn my back on 17."  
  
"You're perfect," she whispered, leaning into him.  
  
Neither noticed the two figures standing five feet away from them, watching in stunned silence as the secret couple embraced each other in unmistakened love. Love that no one knew could be shared between Vegeta and another person. And such a strong love it almost brought tears to the eyes of the unnoticed onlookers.  
  
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---Chapter 8!! :P Oh Kami! They've been discovered! What's going to happen now!? Ahh!…Find out next time ;) Heehee :)  
  
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Next time: Busted! Heehee! 


	9. The Illusion Is Slipping

Last time:  
  
"You're perfect," she whispered, leaning into him.  
  
Neither noticed the two figures standing five feet away from them, watching in stunned silence as the secret couple embraced each other in unmistakened love. Love that no one knew could be shared between Vegeta and another person. And such a strong love it almost brought tears to the eyes of the unnoticed onlookers.  
  
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"18 is waiting for me," Bulma whispered, dropping her arms to her sides, her entire frame giving a great sigh. Vegeta's hands stayed cupped on her face, his forehead pressed tenderly against hers. Neither wanted to move, and, for a moment, they simply stayed that way, unwillingly, just for that moment, to believe that they had to separate again. "She's probably going to come down any second. I've been down here for a while."  
  
"Spying on Romeo and Romeo?" he asked, a cruel laughter behind his voice. It was the same situation they were in, though more people knew about 17 and Azumamaro, all respecting their secrecy…for now. For now, just like him and Bulma. Sooner or later their secret would be out, though he wondered if it was all that bad.  
  
"You never told me 17 was gay," she said, almost angrily, leaning back. "I think that's kind of big."  
  
"And personal," Vegeta shot back, rolling his eyes. "He can tell you himself."  
  
"I'm gay, Bulma."  
  
The couple stiffened, still as statues, only their eyes moving in the direction of the voice. And when they saw it was 17, his arm slung loose around Azumamaro's shoulder, they turned, but had no words for their captors. But then slowly, unexpectedly, Vegeta's lips curled into a smile. 17 was, of course, quite stunned by this, but kept his observation to himself.  
  
"I—" Bulma began, but the words fell like an anvil and she dropped her eyes, as if surveying the gigantic hole her words had left in the floor.  
  
"Briefs," came Azumamaro's deep, sultry voice. How many times in the past had she admired him across the ballroom? In those moments, confided in the silk clothes required of her for such functions, she felt like Juliet seeing her Romeo, the enemy of her family, a man she should hate but could never bring herself to feel such things for someone so beautiful. Of course these feelings were nothing, mere games she played out in her mind in boredom, using him as her co-star for his looks and kindness. "It's only fitting that you would be the one to tame Vegeta's heart." He let out a low, friendly laugh, and extended his arms to her.  
  
She glanced back at Vegeta who, having excluded himself from them, gave a short almost unseen nod.  
  
As she melted into his arms, she felt the past come flooding back to her. Years ago, at her home, she'd danced with this boy who was now a man. He'd been so much better than her those first few times, gently making fun of her and offering her dancing lessons. Being stubborn and offended, she refused and learned on her own. When they danced together again it was he who had trouble keeping up.  
  
Their friendship never went beyond those nights, but, as she stood pressed to him, knew theirs had been a special and eternal bond.  
  
"A boy that can dance as good as you," she laughed, stepping back. "I should have known."  
  
"The signs were there," Baba said, giving a slight gesture. "So, how long have you and Vegeta been sneaking around? I would have read about this in a magazine by now."  
  
"About a month," she confessed, keeping her eyes from looking at 17; she could feel his eyes on her.  
  
"And you love him?" he asked boldly.  
  
"Yes." That she could confess a hundred times over with no hesitation. And then, as if she could stand it no longer, she reached for 17 and pulled him to her, whispering over and over that she was sorry. "It's my fault," she all but whimpered. "I made Vegeta keep it a secret. Please, be mad at me if you're going to be mad. It's not Vegeta's fault."  
  
"Bulma," he sighed, holding her at arm's length so he could look into her eyes. "Why would I be mad? I saw you with Vegeta years ago. I'm just a little shocked, but I'm so happy that you both finally figured it out for yourselves." And then he leaned in again, kissing her cheek tenderly. "I take it that we're the first to know."  
  
She nodded shyly, about to take a few steps back and stand beside her love, when she heard the creak of the steps and turned sharply to see 18 coming down. She glanced at Vegeta out of the corner of her eye, but there was only an empty space where he had been, the light of the refrigerator visible in the distance. And she thought, Clever. Now we can keep our secret sealed between the four of us for now. For now…  
  
"Well, well, well," 18 said, grinning from ear to ear, none the wiser of the situation she'd stepped into. She walked right up to the three of them, stopping just beside her brother. "I had a feeling you two were here."  
  
"Yup," 17 answered. "And the cat's out of the bag."  
  
"Cat?" she laughed. "Right. More like a fucking lion."  
  
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"So," 17 said, leaning against the counter, orange juice in hand. He'd been at Vegeta's for an hour now, but nothing of the night before had been mentioned, yet.  
  
"What?" Vegeta snapped, knowing what that tone meant. He plopped into a chair at the table, his plate piled high with eggs, bacon, toast, and hash browns, all courtesy of 17, who was just beginning to cook for himself. Ever since he'd told his father about his sexual preferences, he'd taken to skipping meals with him and 18, later coming downstairs and cooking and eating by himself. Though, more and more, his father was not around for meals, something new in the Gero household—they were used to him not being around all day, but when dinner came around, he was always there, with the table set and the food laid out for the little family time he could stand. Now, he came home and cooked dinner for himself and 18 only twice a week. Other than that the twins basically lived alone, and so 17 did the cooking for them. 18 couldn't make toast if her life depended on it.  
  
"Come on, Vegeta," he sighed, taking a seat beside him. "How can you expect me to just forget what happened last night? No one is home, no one will know. I swear I won't say a word to anyone."  
  
"And Baba?" He kept his eyes on his food, feigning calm.  
  
"Baba wouldn't say a word even if I didn't make him promise not to. He understands about sneaking around, Vegeta. He wouldn't ruin it for someone else."  
  
"What the hell do you want to know?" Vegeta sighed, leaning back, suddenly not feeling so hungry. The conversation was inevitable. He was just glad that Azumamaro wasn't there to goad him too. In the short time they'd hung out last night, the man had become a part of his life. He'd always despised football players and everything associated with them. Last night he learned that maybe his views on them were wrong, though he still regarded Azumamaro with caution. If he hurt 17 in any way he'd be answering to Vegeta's fist.  
  
"How about telling me how it happened. Last I knew you two were avoiding each other like the plague. Now you're…in love." He waited for his friend to cringe, to make some face or gesture at his last words, but none came, and he eased back.  
  
"I went to see her," he said flatly, and leaned forward, resuming his meal. 17 watched him for a moment, waiting for him to continue, to elaborate, but he was silent.  
  
"Vegeta."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Stop being stubborn! You didn't just start being together just because you went to see her. I know for a fact that Bulma was against seeing you. She wasn't faking in the beginning…How did she react when you showed up?"  
  
"She yelled at me," he laughed, scooping a forkful of eggs and ketchup onto a piece of toast and cramming it into his mouth. 17 cringed slightly. He was not an eggs and ketchup person.  
  
"And?"  
  
"What?" Vegeta huffed. "You want a play by play?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
"Fine," he sighed. "I knocked on the door, she answered. I kissed her, she kissed me back. She wondered why I wasn't mad, I told her, she said she didn't deserve to be forgiven…Want more?"  
  
"You just kissed her?" He didn't believe it. Nor did he believe that Bulma would just kiss him back after four years of not seeing him.  
  
"Yes, 17. I just kissed her. Why is that so hard to believe? Why is my being with her so hard to believe? Are you the only one allowed to shock people? To be happy?" His voice was steadily rising. "After the life I've had I think I deserve her, just as much as you deserve Baba!"  
  
"Please don't yell," 17 said, reaching out to touch Vegeta's shoulder. He recoiled instantly, and stood to clear his plate into the garbage disposal. "Its just strange is all…I guess you two never really stopped thinking about each other."  
  
"Not for a second," Vegeta hissed, slamming his plate into the sink. 17 flinched, expecting the thick glass to break. "And when I graduate, I'm moving to Capsule Corp. and going to college in Watanabe City. And there'll be no more of this sneaking around shit."  
  
"And Bulma? How does she feel about all this?"  
  
"You think it was my idea to hide from everyone? She doesn't want to piss anyone off, so as far as you're all concerned we're enemies. Romeo and fucking Juliet. I wouldn't be surprised if we did end up like them in the end. Kakarot's wench needs to calm down."  
  
"Chi-Chi still won't talk to her?"  
  
"Bulma wants to be on good terms with everyone before they know about us. Kakarot, his wench, and cueball still aren't there."  
  
"Krillin too? I thought they hardly knew each other."  
  
"Everyone is everyone. Thank Kami you and 18 have sense."  
  
He turned on the garbage disposal, waited a moment for it to chew up the unwanted food, then turned it off and walked out of the room. The conversation was over.  
  
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Vegeta dropped the milk carton, ignoring the mess it made, and slowly crept to the doorway of the kitchen. He could have sworn he heard something, like footsteps, in the foyer. He braced himself for anything, and stepped out of the kitchen, his breath immediately coming out of him.  
  
"I thought you weren't coming 'til tomorrow," he said, still standing a few feet away from her.  
  
"I couldn't wait that long," she admitted. Her small duffel bag hung loose on her shoulder, her lopsided smile giving her an overall radiance. And for the hundredth time, he swore she'd never looked more beautiful than she did now. "It took my best convincing to keep 18 from dropping me off at the bus station. Luckily, Krillin came by—and he's such a great guy, by the way. I'd forgotten so much about him—Well, he occupied 18, so 17 and Azzie gave me a ride here."  
  
"Azzie?" Vegeta laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "Best friends already?" he sighed.  
  
"Don't tell me you're jealous," she teased, approaching him, her bag slipping from her shoulder onto the floor as he enveloped her in his embrace, unable to stay mad. "I missed you." He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the sweet smell of her shampoo. "Are you terribly tired?"  
  
"What do I need sleep for? I'm not going to school."  
  
"True," she laughed, gathering up her bag as they headed up to his room.  
  
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"Please don't pester me about it," Bulma sighed, leaning back into his arms, her head resting comfortably on his chest. He instinctively tightened his grasp on her, as if she weren't already as close to him as she could be. "Telling 18 will be hard enough, and we're friends again. I still need to talk to Chi-Chi and Goku. I honestly didn't think THEY would be the ones to be this angry…I always figured you and 18 would be the coldest."  
  
"Ever wonder why?" he murmured into the back of her aqua locks.  
  
"Always." She turned partially around, but, when his eyes wouldn't meet her gaze, she settled back down and waited for an answer.  
  
"Kakarot and his baka never suspected they'd be hurt. Especially by you…Me and 18, however, are…" He paused for a moment, trying to come up with the best word to get the point across. "…pessimistic."  
  
"So you expected to be hurt?"  
  
"You should always expect to be hurt," he stated, as if it were common knowledge, as if everyone believed it and were just waiting to be hurt.  
  
"I never wanted to hurt anyone," she sighed, turned to her side and curling into a ball, her hands resting under her cheek, palms pressed flat against his warm, muscular chest. "I wish I could just pull everyone aside and tell them how sorry I am…But maybe its better this way. Maybe they deserve their anger and I deserve to be without them."  
  
"Do you want me to knock some sense into them or something?" he said angrily. She turned sharply towards him, knowing his eyes would be icy, but they never failed to frightened her a little. "You've done nothing but talk about them. Clearly you don't believe what you're saying. You want them to forgive you, but I can't think of a thing you need to be forgiven for. Bulma—" He grabbed her face gently, forcing her to meet his eyes. "—you did nothing wrong. If you just told them—"  
  
"Are you insane?" she snapped, backing away. "You think I want their pity? Why do you think I never told you? It broke my heart to see that anger in you when I saw you; that first day, at the soccer game. And no matter how badly I wanted to grab you and hold you and beg for your forgiveness, tell you what had happened, I didn't. I wanted you to want to come back to me. I would have forced myself to stay in Watanabe City for the rest of my life had you not come to me…"  
  
"You'd rather have everyone hurt than be pitied for a few minutes?" he retorted.  
  
"The only reason they'd come back to me is because they pitied me! Not because they wanted to! Why don't you understand that!"  
  
"Bulma!" he whispered, pulling her roughly to him. "Do you want the rest of my family to know you're here? Do you want to upset Taisho? Do you want the whole world to know about us!"  
  
"Yes!" she whispered, almost desperately. "I don't want to hide from everyone, but what else can I do?"  
  
"Then ask them to forgive you," he sighed, defeated. Her first night with him and already they were fighting.  
  
"Vegeta, I—"  
  
"Vegeta, who's in there with you?" came Mr. Ouji's tired and annoyed voice. "If you can't sneak your flings in here quietly then don't bring them here!" The doorknob jiggled violently; their eyes never moved from the door. "Open the door right now!"  
  
"Shove off!" Vegeta shot back, playing it cool. If Bulma was discovered, it would mean the end of so many things. He didn't even want to think of her reaction.  
  
"Vegeta Ouji! Open this door right now or—" But he cut himself short, and from his throat came that sinister laughter Bulma had heard so many times in the past with Takao. The laughter that meant she would regret standing up to him.  
  
She tumbled backwards off the bed and slammed her back into the wall as the door flung open, and the shadowed figure of Vegeta's uncle came stomping in. Seconds later the room illuminated with light. Bulma looked up from the floor, only half-aware of Vegeta at her side, holding her to his chest, as Mr. Ouji's face came into focus. And, try as she might, she couldn't stop her body from trembling or her eyes from watering.  
  
"You have ten secon—Bulma?" His voice softened immediately and he eased himself on the bed, leaning forward as if to better see her. She shrunk back, clinging to Vegeta as if he were her life-force. "What…" But he didn't need to ask. Why was more appropriate for the situation.  
  
"Do you have to be such a lumbering buffoon?" Vegeta snapped, glaring heatedly at his uncle.  
  
"I scared her?" Mr. Ouji asked, his voice showing nothing but concern. He'd always liked Bulma, though he never understood why she would be friends with his nephew and the Gero twins. And now she and Vegeta were dating? It was all too bizarre to comprehend at once.  
  
"Yes, you moron."  
  
"And you and her?"  
  
"Who are you? Einstein? Yes, we're together and you're damn lucky you're stronger than me."  
  
"I didn't mean to scare her!" he hissed quietly, his eyes on Bulma all the while.  
  
"Kami," Vegeta groaned, rolling his eyes. He leaned close to her ear, whispered something his uncle couldn't hear, then lifted her off the floor and set her on the bed. "Come on. In the hall."  
  
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"And Taisho doesn't know about this?" Mr. Ouji asked, lifting a mug of steaming tea to his lips. They'd long since retreated to the kitchen for more privacy. And, surprisingly, the conversation never reached heated words, though neither acknowledged it.  
  
"17 and his boyfriend are the only one's who know," Vegeta sighed. He stood some eight feet from his uncle, his back leaning against the fridge. "They found out. We haven't told anyone."  
  
"And her past? You're the only one who knows about that?"  
  
"Besides her parents, yes." He pushed himself off the fridge and took deliberate steps forward. He stopped inches from his uncle, and leaned in, their noses nearly touching. "And if you say ONE word about this to ANYONE, I'll make you wish you never started shit with me."  
  
He walked out without another word. Bulma was the only thing on his mind, and she needed him.  
  
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---Chapter 9!! :) I know, I know. Not a lot happened in this chapter. There'll be more later, I swear :D I won't disappoint you. I have some great stuff lined up if you're patient :P  
  
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Next time: How long can they keep their secret? The strings are coming loose…the secret's almost out… 


	10. Am I Paranoid?

Last time:  
  
"Besides her parents, yes." He pushed himself off the fridge and took deliberate steps forward. He stopped inches from his uncle, and leaned in, their noses nearly touching. "And if you say ONE word about this to ANYONE, I'll make you wish you never started shit with me."  
  
He walked out without another word. Bulma was the only thing on his mind, and she needed him.  
  
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For months Bulma lived her life on the run. Between rehearsals, filming, and going back and forth to Satan City, she had almost no time for her schoolwork, and absolutely none in the lab. True, she was home schooled and did her work according to her schedule, but it seemed she had less and less time for it. Her parents were not happy.  
  
She struggled to learn her lines, to get along with the director and the other actors. But, in the end, she walked off the set more times than anyone could count. The movie was due out in two months, after intense editing and advertising. For the first time in four months she had a chance to sit down and take a breather.  
  
And then the phone rang.  
  
"Hello?" she sighed, half-annoyed. It was the first day after the movie was completed. She didn't want to see or hear from people today. Not even Vegeta.  
  
"Hello. Is Bulma there?" came a familiar, shy feminine voice.  
  
"Speaking."  
  
"Bulma?" There was a long pause. "It's Chi-Chi."  
  
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Watanabe City, though being known for its great movie star population, did have some very quaint and warm little shops dotted throughout its grandness. One such place, a bustling café just next door to Bulma's favorite bookshop, was her preferred place for meetings; directors, other actors and actresses, producers, her agent—now it held so much more meaning.  
  
She loved every inch of this small café, from its gaudy pale yellow walls, hung with cultural black and white images, to its mismatched array of tables and chairs, the napkins folded fancily. The silverware was worn and generic, but the coffee and tea were the best in the city. And no one could make a better pumpkin pie.  
  
"I could live off this tea," Bulma commented, holding the steaming cup under her nose, its perfume wafting into her nostrils.  
  
"It's very good," Chi-Chi said, her hand nervously stirring the contents of her cup. They'd hardly said two words to each other since Chi-Chi had gotten off the bus. It had been a tense and exciting moment for both girls; they embraced as if they were the best of friends, but, once they were in a cab headed for the café, their mouths seemed to seize up to anything but mundane conversational phrases. "Bulma, I have to say something before I explode," Chi-Chi suddenly blurted out, her hands now firmly gripping the edge of the table. Bulma reached across the table, touching one of her hands lightly; a small gesture that she hoped would help her to relax. She knew nothing else in that moment. "It's been eating away at me and I-I…I can't stand being without you anymore…"  
  
Bulma lowered her eyes, her cheeks flushed pink. And for the life of her, she could not figure why she was embarrassed.  
  
"I know you regret leaving," she continued, her words more hurried, as if she feared she would never get them all out. "I could see it in you that first night, but Kami, I was so stubborn. I didn't want to see that you were upset too, that you missed us just as much as we missed you…I let my anger get the better of me…Please, forgive me."  
  
"You," Bulma said, raising her head, her voice firm, "have nothing to be sorry about. I am the one who should be asking for forgiveness."  
  
"No, I'm the one who didn't understand. I was so stubborn I didn't see what was plain as day!" she whispered almost hysterically, her hands still gripped at the table.  
  
"And I'm the one who left and never gave an explanation for why I didn't return…" she sighed, leaning back in her chair.  
  
"Then I suppose we can both accept the apologies," Chi-Chi suggested, casting her eyes into her teacup.  
  
Bulma smiled almost sheepishly as she stood and took the seat directly beside her long lost friend. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders, her head resting there as she held her tightly.  
  
"I've missed you so much," she sobbed, her eyes laced with tears, though her cheeks were dry. She'd become an expert at withholding them.  
  
"Oh Kami," Chi-Chi moaned. "Me too!…Me too…"  
  
"And I swear, if it kills me, I am going to tell you and everyone else why I never came back, because I could never willingly stay away."  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Her reunion with Goku was different, to say the least. He was waiting at Chi-Chi's house when they walked in, arm in arm, laughter ringing from their mouths. As soon as she laid eyes on him, Bulma's heart sank and there was the deepest, most agonizing silence she had ever experienced.  
  
Slowly, and with much deliberation, he rose from his place on the couch, abandoning his Coke and bowl of popcorn; the movie playing on the TV was only background noise now. When he was finally in front of her, all he seemed to be able to do was stare, his eyes transfixed on hers. She could literally feel the hairs on her arms stand on end; and she knew they could feel her tension as well.  
  
But then he smiled—that almost lopsided goofy grin she remembered so well—and the entire room relaxed. Even the people on the television looked more at ease.  
  
"I don't know what to say," Bulma finally said, wanting desperately to look away but knew she should not.  
  
"You don't need to say anything," he sighed, pulling her into a massive bear hug. "I trust Chi-Chi's judgment…Besides," he added, leaning back to better see her, "I was always willing to forgive you."  
  
"Then why did you let me believe you were angry?" There was nothing accusatory in her voice.  
  
"Because I knew that's what you wanted."  
  
She nodded knowingly and surrendered to his warm embrace once more. The picture was almost complete; there was only one thing left for her to do. She only hoped she had the strength for it…  
  
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"Oh Vegeta!" she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck as he lifted her into the air, her legs clamping around his waist. "It was so amazing!" She couldn't remember a time she'd been so completely and utterly happy—she had Vegeta, she had all her friends back, her career was going great, and Takao was gone like a bad dream—it was perfect, finally. "They're back! They're all back!"  
  
He kissed her firmly before his exploded from anticipation, then set her on her feet.  
  
"I hate to burst your bubble—"  
  
"Liar," she laughed.  
  
"Won't they want to know why you haven't reconciled with me yet?"  
  
"Kuso," she swore, taking an unintentional step back. "I forgot about that. I guess I just figured—Kuso!"  
  
"Do you want me—"  
  
"Are you crazy?" she snapped. "Sorry. I mean, it's best that I tell them. If you did it'd seem like I was cowering out or something. I want everything to be perfect this time. I want nothing to ruin what I have now. I've been dreaming about it for too long. I—" She stopped abruptly, her eyes falling on a printout that lay on his desk, the words: Paranoid Mood Swings in bold at the top. "What is that?" She did not like the looks of it. Further down on the page she noticed the word: Psychotic and then just below that: Should seek medical help.  
  
"Research for a project," he said without skipping a beat, his eyes hard and void of emotion.  
  
"You're lying," she said firmly, and attempted to reach for it. He was too fast, however, and shoved the ten-page printout into the top drawer, slamming it shut. Quickly her genius brain put the pieces together, and she let out a stunted gasp. "It's about me, isn't it?"  
  
"You don't believe me?" he asked sternly.  
  
"No, Vegeta, I don't. I think you think I'm insane and those papers have something to do with me, and if you don't tell me I'm walking out that door!"  
  
"I do not think you're insane," he sighed, rolling his eyes. How was he supposed to respond in a situation like this? Of course the papers were about her; he'd never had a chance to bring them up and, just before she showed up, he had been looking them over and forgot to hide them again. "Don't assume things you know nothing about."  
  
"Then you won't mind if I look at them, will you?" He cringed inwardly. How could he have not seen that coming?  
  
"Why are you so interested in them?" he shot back.  
  
"Why are you so protective of them if they're nothing bad? A research project is nothing to be ashamed about."  
  
"And it's nothing interesting either."  
  
"I never said I wanted to see them for interest." For thirty seconds they stared either other down, and then, at a speed that amazed even Vegeta, she pulled open the drawer, grabbed the printout, and ran out the door. She made it to the living room before he caught up to her.  
  
"Woman!" he hollered into the dark room as he fumbled for the light switch. When he found it, and the room was flooded with light, she was across the room; she was backed into a corner. Before she had a chance to raise the papers and get a closer look, he was already headed in her direction. "Give those back or you'll regret it!" he snapped before he could stop himself.  
  
"I will not!" she retorted, clutching the papers to her chest. She faked right, then ran left, just barely escaping his grasp as she jumped up on the couch. But, unfortunately, this slowed her considerably, and he tackled her into the soft cushions. "Get off me you oaf!" Her small fists pounded into his rock hard chest, having no effect whatsoever, the papers scattered on the floor.  
  
"Quiet woman," he demanded, attempting to cover her mouth, but to no avail; he didn't want to lose his fingers; he didn't doubt she would bite him, and hard. "Do you want to wake up the entire house?"  
  
Immediately she went rigid, her eyes wide.  
  
"I have to go," she whispered, her voice almost inaudible.  
  
"What are you talking about? You just got here." He frowned deep.  
  
"Please, Vegeta, get off me. I have to leave. Don't make this hard for me."  
  
"How long do you think you can keep this from Taisho? He'll find out when the others do."  
  
"Vegeta, please," she whimpered, her eyes shrink-wrapped with tears. "I don't want—I—There are things about me I don't want you to witness. Not yet. I just need time to think…I'll come back next week."  
  
"That's not good enough," he grunted, but eased off her and allowed her to sit up. He pulled her close, her head resting on his shoulder. "I should know everything."  
  
"I know," she sighed, their fight completely forgotten. She'd ask him about the papers later. "And you will, just give me time…"  
  
"Fine…You win…This time."  
  
She smiled sadly up at him; he obliged by giving her a firm kiss on the forehead.  
  
"It kills me to do this," she said when they were at the front door. "I'll call you tomorrow. Ok?"  
  
"If I'm around."  
  
"Don't get cold with me, Vegeta."  
  
He nodded, his frown still very much realized. They embraced one last time, kissed once more, before she walked outside and pulled the door shut behind her. Vegeta sighed deeply, his back against the door, head down. How could he help her if he knew next to nothing about her? It was like she was a total stranger.  
  
After a few minutes, he gathered himself up and walked into the living room to retrieve the fallen papers. He was reaching for the last one when he heard a noise by the stairs. He grabbed the paper and looked up, completely unprepared for what he saw.  
  
"Why do you give me so many reasons to loathe you?" Taisho snapped, cheeks wet with tears. For a long while Vegeta was still, his back slightly crouched, eyes on his cousin, who stood with his hands in fists at his sides, a look of pure rage in his eyes. The only thought in his head at that moment was getting the printout hidden from those who knew nothing of Bulma's past; e.i. Taisho.  
  
"Cousin," he finally said, straightening up. He slipped the partially folded papers into the back of his jeans, pulling his shirt over them. "You just missed her. I didn't think you were home."  
  
"Fuck you, Vegeta. How long do you think I've been standing here?"  
  
"Do you mean metaphorically?" Vegeta mocked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Your whole life?" he laughed, his voice deep and cynical. What was the use? He knew now. Bulma was not going to be happy.  
  
"I saw you kiss her, Vegeta! You tell me what's going on!" A noticeable crack broke his voice; Vegeta couldn't remember seeing him this angry before. It was the anger of his father, not Taisho. "And you tell me right now." He took a few steps forward, stopping just behind the couch.  
  
"If you saw that, cousin, then there's nothing to tell. I think the scene speaks for itself."  
  
Taisho's glare deepened, his lip curling into an almost snarl.  
  
"What? Did you expect me to lie? 'No, Taisho my friend, me and Bulma mean nothing to each other.' Who do you think I am? Do you even remember four years ago?" It was Vegeta's turn to advance; they were a mere foot apart. "Do you remember what her leaving did to me!" he hissed, grabbing his cousin's shirt collar and giving it a rough tug. "If you knew Bulma half as well as you believe you do then you would have seen it so much sooner," he said through his teeth. "And don't you dare make a fuss about this with her, because I swear to Kami if you make her upset I will do all in my power to make you regret it. Family or no, you will know what she means to me."  
  
"Vegeta, please," Taisho said, his voice back to normal, his face issuing none of the anger it had only a moment before. Vegeta slowly released his grip and took a step back. "I won't say anything to her if you don't want me to…I just…I always suspected you liked her, I just never knew you loved her…so much…"  
  
Vegeta's eyes softened. No, rage was not good for Taisho, and he regretted being the one to bring it out so prominently in him.  
  
"Just keep your mouth shut," he said after a moment, then shoved by him and up the stairs. What else was he supposed to say?  
  
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"Went to a movie. Be back late," Bulma read of the note on the kitchen table. "Dinner is in the fridge. Love, mom and dad." She sighed deep and opened the fridge, finding none of its contents even remotely appetizing. She couldn't even begin to place how she felt right now—somewhere between sadness and recklessness. Mentally she pictured the words as cities, Insanity being the next town over. "Who am I kidding?" she groaned as she climbed the stairs to her room. "I am crazy…"  
  
As she drew her usual "stress bath", adding a capful of bubble bath to the steaming water, she couldn't help but wonder why she had felt that sudden need to be home, in Watanabe City, and as far from Vegeta as possible. For some time now, she'd felt a certain degree of paranoia around him from time to time, the feeling flaring and fading as her comfort level fluctuated. She knew she was in no danger with him, in fact, she was probably most safe when his arms were protectively wrapped around her, as if he were intentionally keeping her from harm at every second they were together. His temper was the only thing that seemed to effect her negatively, though today she had held out much longer in their heated dispute than normal—her pain was easing; she was getting stronger.  
  
She slipped carefully into the bath, giving a small moan of pleasure as the warm water enveloped her entire body. She imagined the mounds and peaks of bubbles as mountains and buildings, pretending to be a giant as she sliced through them with her fingers. This little game only occupied her wandering thoughts for a moment, however, and soon she was back on Vegeta. She submerged her entire body in the tub and held her breath for as long as she could. Gasping, and slightly frightened, she clung to the side of the tub, her breathing labored as she dripping pools of water on the floor.  
  
"Now why would you try to kill yourself, my pet?"  
  
Bulma's fingers slipped from the ledge and she went splashing back into the bathtub, her entire form completely frozen. She closed her eyes, covered her ears, and curled into a ball under the water. She wanted to die, to stay in the tub and drown into the next world.  
  
A painful yank at the back of her head pulled her from the water, and from the tub. She laid sprawled, cold and naked, on the icy tiled bathroom floor, her legs curled instinctively into her body. It was five months ago and she was going to die.  
  
"Come my love."  
  
She was to her feet without knowing how, a fluffy white robe wrapped tightly around her dripping body. And, as she was placed on the bed, her body limp and unwilling to defend itself, all she could think was, "I love you, Vegeta. I love you and I'm sorry…"  
  
His face loomed over her in such gorgeous perfection she didn't believe what she was seeing for a moment. Her eyes focused, then blurred as the usual tears began to form.  
  
"What? Nothing to say to me, darling?" he whispered huskily, his hand resting unnervingly far up on her leg. "Aren't you glad I've come back? Did you miss me? I missed you." His lips curled into a smile, his deep eyes reflecting years of pain and cruelty. "Do you know why I'm back?"  
  
"N-N-No," Bulma managed to get out, her fingers trembling at her sides. Run. Run, damn it, run! But her legs were made of lead, her will crumbling. Is this what her life was meant to be? An endless circle of tears and abuse?  
  
"I came to get you," he said, his voice light and sweet. It sickened her that she had fallen in love with that voice. "We're going on a trip. I've already made all the arrangements. I have such a wonderful surprise for you, my love."  
  
"Where are you taking me?" she asked meekly.  
  
"Anywhere I wish." And though his voice remained low and calm, she could feel the cynicism in the words. He'd often told her she was his property, a thing to do with as he pleased, and he never failed to treat her as such. "Your apprehension pains me." He frowned. "Should I spill my secret and tell you the surprise? Would that make you feel better?" He reached forward and pulled her into his lap, holding her slightly shivering body close to his chest. His little doll. "We're getting married, darling," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm and vile. "In three days we will be man and wife and then nothing can keep us apart."  
  
A million and one thoughts rushed through Bulma's mind, crippling it to any real thought. For a long while she did nothing, made no noise or movement, her eyes blank and almost dead looking. And then, to her own shock, and very much to his, she sprang up and ran for the door, nearly stumbling on her wobbly and uncertain legs.  
  
"What are you doing, Bulma dear?" he called after her, his footfalls loud and sharp on the wooden flooring of the hall and stairs. When he found her, she was in the kitchen, a serrated knife clutched in her hand, her back pressed against the fridge. "I hope you don't plan to use that on me."  
  
"Stay away from me!" she screamed, jabbing the blade into the air between them. "I will kill you, I don't care what happens to me!"  
  
"Well you shouldn't," he laughed, his brow narrowing. "If you don't put that knife down right now and agree to come with me I will make you pay in a way you never imagined."  
  
"Try me, asshole!" she hissed, her eyes fiery, her lips trembling. It was the first time she'd really stood up to him, and, before he opened his mouth again, she actually thought she had a chance to escape him.  
  
"Your little friends in Satan City," he said, a fierce smile stretching out his mouth, "how tragic it would be if they all had some horrible accident."  
  
"How do you know about them!" she cried, knife still out and ready.  
  
"I read the papers, my love. But no, I won't touch them. That would do no justice for the disobedience you're showing me right now."  
  
"I belong to no one!"  
  
"Not even your lover?"  
  
Bulma's heart stopped and her grip loosened on the blade.  
  
"You think I know nothing of your adulterous relationship with that child?" he snapped, taking a few deliberate steps forward. "I've seen you bring him into this very house! I saw that disgusting picture of you and him in your bedroom, next to the bed we used to share together!"  
  
"Takao, please," she whispered, her voice small and hoarse again. How had she lost control so quickly? She was the prisoner again. The knife slipped from her fingers and clattered on the floor. "Don't hurt anyone. Don't hurt him. I'll do whatever you want."  
  
"What's his name?" he growled.  
  
"His name isn't important. I'm yours, Takao, and I always was. I never should have doubted that…Please forgive me."  
  
"Oh, my darling," he sighed, closing the gap between them, his strong confining arms wrapped around her. "Of course I forgive you. I love you, don't you know that?"  
  
"Of course I know that," she said into his chest, her tears soaking his shirt. "I-I…I love you too." She lifted her head and put on her old smile. "Now let's get married."  
  
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---Chapter 10!!! Holy Kuso! What the hell just happened there! Bulma! No! Why! Why!…I am SO cruel :D  
  
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (ReviewsMore Chapters)  
  
Next time: Oh, this is too fun…No hints! :P 


	11. Biting Reality

Last time:  
  
"Oh, my darling," he sighed, closing the gap between them, his strong confining arms wrapped around her. "Of course I forgive you. I love you, don't you know that?"  
  
"Of course I know that," she said into his chest, her tears soaking his shirt. "I-I…I love you too." She lifted her head and put on her old smile. "Now let's get married."  
  
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Bulma had a small bag packed and ready in less than ten minutes, grabbing only what she would need and nothing more. True, she could very well buy anything she wanted or needed, but the comfort of having her own possessions was the only comfort she had.  
  
She took one last glance around her room to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything. Immediately, her eyes fell on the picture of her and Vegeta that sat on her nightstand. They were at the edge of their indoor pool, and Vegeta had her hoisted onto his shoulder, threatening to drop her into the heated water below. Bulma, being fully clothed and dry, obviously did not want to get wet. Mrs. Briefs had taken the picture only seconds before Vegeta slipped on a puddle and the couple went crashing into the pool.  
  
Before Takao grew suspicious and came to see what was taking her so long, Bulma grabbed the framed photo, tossed it into her closet, wiped her eyes, and shut the door.  
  
"At least I had you," she whispered, forcing her best fake smile. If this was going to be the rest of her life, she was going to have to get used to it now. She could not endure a life of wallowing and regret.  
  
"Darling," Takao said as she entered the living room, her bag flung loosely over her shoulder. "Are you ready to begin the rest of our lives?"  
  
"I've been ready for so long," she forced out, giving him a small kiss on the cheek. It took all her willpower to not cringe, to not show any sign that she was quickly dying inside, that the life she had always wanted—and had only recently glimpsed—would never fully be realized. Her and Vegeta were over and there was nothing she could do about it. Her only wish was that he would be able to find happiness with someone else in his life.  
  
And then the whole scene changed.  
  
Bulma's head snapped up, her eyes transfixed in horror at the front door—the knob was turning. Her parents were home!  
  
"Takao," she whispered, her body frozen in place. "We have to hide. They won't let us leave. They'll call the police."  
  
"The police?" A cloud of anger passed over him—Bulma knew it would have burst if the door hadn't opened at that very moment.  
  
"Bulma dear!" Mrs. Briefs called as she pulled off her coat. "We're—Oh, there you are. And we have company! Why didn't you tell me you were having someone over?"  
  
Bulma stared in horrified wonder as her mother hung up her coat and purse by the door. She didn't know who was standing mere feet from her? A man she swore she would protect her daughter from at all costs. Was she blind!  
  
But then she saw it and realized he was not the old Takao. His hair was short now, out of his eyes, and he wore color contacts, instead of his old thick black-rimmed glasses. At first glance, he was an entirely different person. In her panic, she had seen him for who he was.  
  
"Who is your friend, dear?" Mrs. Briefs asked, sidling up beside her daughter.  
  
Any minute now, Bulma thought, her palms sweating. She didn't know where her bag was.  
  
"Surely you remember me, Mrs. Briefs," came his deep and pleasant voice. "I've been away for so long you must have forgotten. But I'm back now, and Bulma and myself are ready to continue our lives together. Tell her, love." He pulled Bulma close, his arm around her shoulders. "Tell her what we plan to do."  
  
"You remember Takao mom," Bulma laughed, giving him an affectionate look. To any onlooker they were a happily in-love couple. But, knowing her daughter better than any soul, Mrs. Briefs caught the poorly hidden terror in her eyes. "He's come back for me. We're getting married."  
  
This was the exact moment Dr. Briefs chose to walk through the door, his ears perking at the word 'married'. Immediately he thought of her and Vegeta, his mind not registering the strange in the house just yet.  
  
"Married!" he said, making his way towards his wife and daughter. "I knew it the moment I saw the boy," he laughed, pulling her into a hug. "Vegeta will make a fine—" But his eyes had fallen on Takao and he knew who he was without being told. A surge of panic cracked down his spine and for a moment he could neither speak nor think.  
  
"Not Vegeta, daddy," Bulma waved off as if he were nothing to her. Couldn't they feel her pain? She was sure of it. "I don't know what I was thinking with him. He was nothing but a jerk to me. We always fought when I lived in Satan City. I guess I just wanted to…to be with someone. I never dreamed Takao would come back. But now that he has," she paused, uncurling herself from her father's loose grasp, "we're getting married. Don't be angry. It's what I want."  
  
"Bulma," Dr. Briefs said sternly, his feeling coming back. He grabbed her almost roughly by the arm and pulled her into the kitchen. Mrs. Briefs followed hot on their heels. "What the hell are you doing?" he snapped, grabbing onto her other arm. She refused to meet his gaze. "Look at me!" He made sure to keep his voice low enough for Takao not to hear.  
  
"Are you on drugs?" Mrs. Briefs asked in all seriousness. It was not uncommon, of course, for those in the limelight to resort to use of illegal substances to feel alive in a world where nearly everything is fake.  
  
"Drugs?" Bulma laughed. She gave up trying to get free from her father's grip. She was going to hear what they had to say no matter what. "Mom, you know how ridiculous I think that stuff is. I'm perfectly fine, and sane."  
  
"You do remember what he did to you, honey." She wanted to cry, seeing the pain and concern on her father's face. But she remained firm and virtually emotionless. "All those hospital visits." For a moment he thought he saw a glimmer of something in his daughter's eyes at the mention of what he knew no one could ever forget—but, as quickly as it came, it was gone and she smiled as if he'd said nothing at all.  
  
"He was having a rough time in his life," she finally said, as if trying to convince herself as well. "He didn't even know who he was. He wasn't ready for a relationship; that's why he did those awful things. But he's better now!" she whispered, bringing her hands around to grasp her father's arms as he grasped hers. "He's been to counseling and group therapy and he's a completely new and different person. He loves me and I love him and we're getting married whether I have your consent or not. I'm eighteen years old and by law I can do what I please."  
  
Her parents were so dumbfounded that for a moment the room was in a dead silence.  
  
"Darling." Bulma's heart jumped at the sound of Takao's voice. He was coming for her now. It was her last moment with her parents and all she could think was that she had to get out of there before they saw her cry. Being saved was completely out of the question now. It was too late. "I don't mean to rush you, but the flight is long and I would love it if we could talk some before getting settled in."  
  
"Where are you taking her?" Dr. Briefs asked, not even trying to mask the distaste in his voice. Takao grinned wide at him, easily pulling Bulma into his arms.  
  
"It doesn't matter where I'm going," Bulma insisted. She wrapped her arms around his waist to complete the illusion. "I'm going and that's all that matters. I'll be back when I wish. If Yutaka calls, tell him I won't look at a script on my vacation."  
  
"Bulma, please, think about what you're doing," Dr. Briefs pleaded, trying unsuccessfully to hold her hand. She recoiled from him as if he carried the plague, pressing herself ever closer to Takao. "You're only eighteen. There's no reason to get married so young. Think about—"  
  
"Father!" she hissed, giving him a look of pure and untainted hatred. "I love Takao. I am marrying him no matter what you try feeding me! Stop being so…so…traditional and let me live my own life, the way I want to!" Sharply, she turned to her mother, startling her noticeably. "Mom, please tell Vegeta what happened. Tell him I'm sorry that I hurt him, but I don't love him and never did. I love Takao."  
  
"And if he tries to contact you?" Mrs. Briefs whispered, her voice small and hoarse. This was not her daughter standing before her.  
  
"Tell him not to, that I don't want to see him again."  
  
"But—"  
  
"I'm sorry. I can't stay any longer," Bulma interrupted, pulling Takao from the kitchen. She found her bag next to the couch, grabbed it, and was out the door before her parents could collect themselves. By the time they were in the car, two houses from Capsule Corp., she was in such a raging fit of tears even Takao's quiet, threatening voice couldn't silence her. "You owe me these tears," she sobbed into her palms.  
  
He didn't say a word the entire way to the airport.  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
"Aren't you even going to try, Vegeta?" Chi-Chi asked as they sat at the first empty table they saw in the food court. Earlier that day at school, she'd come up to him, asking if he would go to the mall with her to help her buy Goku a birthday present. And, since Vegeta was his best friend, she figured he knew him the best. Needless to say, it took a lot of convincing.  
  
"To tune you out?" he grunted, taking an unattractive bite of his burger. "I've been trying all day, but it's not working."  
  
"Don't start with me," she warned, pointing a motherly finger at him. "I know you miss her just as much as we all did. You know how miserable I was these last four years without her. You can't sit there and say you don't feel the same and be telling the truth. Just call her, I'm sure she'd be more than willing to at least talk to you."  
  
"We've tried that," he said. "Remember?"  
  
"You mean she tried. You did nothing, as usual, and pissed her off. Not being your alter-ego all the time would help too."  
  
"And since when do you care?" he asked, holding his soda to his mouth, ready to drink. "Or, to be more exact, since when do you care about ME?"  
  
"Since you showed me you could be something other than a selfish asshole," she said sweetly, sipping at her iced tea. "To be honest, I never thought, or wanted, to be in this situation with you. But—"  
  
"Likewise," he said under his breath.  
  
"But, now that I know you can be a good guy, I'm glad we're here."  
  
"At the mall?"  
  
"Yeah, at the mall," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "At this point, you moron."  
  
"Right…"  
  
"Don't be an ass. And stop getting me off track. I want to know why you won't confront Bulma. She misses you, I know it."  
  
"So she hasn't talked about me…I figured that."  
  
"She refuses to talk about you. Which means that she wants to be friends with you again. Maybe more."  
  
"I think you've crossed a line," he commented, narrowing his eyes just a little.  
  
"What line?"  
  
"Not even Kakarot talks to me about girls."  
  
"And why is that?" she inquired, a devious smile on her lips. This was getting interesting. And here she thought she was just getting present for her boyfriend.  
  
"If I told you, I'd be admitting something I'm not ready to admit. Don't push me."  
  
She nodded knowingly and started to eat. She was happy to get as much as she did.  
  
By the time they walked out of the mall, it was nearly nine o'clock and the sun was completely gone. Once seated in the passenger's seat—for he didn't feel much like driving and Chi-Chi had been begging to drive his car for months—he pulled out his cell phone and checked for messages. He never had it on unless he knew someone was going to call him.  
  
Immediately, his stomach turned to knots. There were fifteen messages, all from the Briefs' home line, not Bulma's personal line, which meant it was Mrs. Briefs making the calls. He found the first message, opened it, and held the phone to his ear.  
  
"Kami no," he whispered. The phone slipped from his trembling fingers, the message still playing.  
  
"What?" Chi-Chi asked, trying to keep her eyes on the road. Something in the tone of his voice was unsettling. Was he upset? She couldn't tell in the dim lighting of the car. "Who was the message from?"  
  
"Pull over," he said, his eyes still forward and unmoving.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Pull over!" he demanded, grabbing at the wheel. Hastily, she pulled the car to the side of the road.  
  
"Tell me what's going on, Vegeta!" she snapped, fear evident in her voice. But he ignored her, getting out of the car instead, and coming around to her side.  
  
"Move over," he yelled through the glass. Reluctantly she did as he said. When they were on the road again, and headed in the opposite direction of their houses, going at least twenty miles over the speed limit, Chi-Chi tried once more to get some desperately needed information out of him:  
  
"Will you tell me now?" she yelled, wanting to slap him for nearly giving her a heart attack.  
  
"Where do you want me to start!" he shot back, his fingers barely able to grip the steering wheel. If she had known his anger was a façade for his pain and fear, she wouldn't be mad at him. And, if she knew what was upsetting him, she wouldn't be able to talk period. "I've reconciled with Bulma, we've been together for almost four months now, I love her and there's nothing I can do to save her!"  
  
"Recon—Love—Save her? Vegeta! What the fuck does that mean!"  
  
"It means she's gone!"  
  
"Gone!?"  
  
"It means her psychotic ex kidnapped her and no one knows where she is! She wouldn't let me help her and now I can't!"  
  
"K-K-Kidnapped? B-By who?"  
  
"His name is Takao," he sighed, his breath painful and heavy, eyes laced with tears. "That's all I know…"  
  
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"Why hasn't anyone called the police!" Vegeta demanded, ignoring Mrs. Briefs as she tugged on his arm for him to seat down. He'd only been there a few minutes, his car parked diagonal across the Capsule Corp. front lawn. "How long has she been gone!"  
  
"She left an hour ago," Mrs. Briefs said, trying to keep her voice calm and steady.  
  
"And the reason we didn't call the police," Dr. Briefs said, catching Vegeta's attention, "is because Bulma went with Takao. She told us she was leaving and we couldn't convince her to stay."  
  
"And just what does she plan to do with this psycho?" He was sitting now, though he didn't remember consciously allowing himself that small comfort. "How can you sit here and pretend like she isn't in trouble!"  
  
"They're getting married, Vegeta," he sighed, taking a seat in the chair opposite him and his wife. Chi-Chi sat on the other side of Mrs. Briefs; she hadn't stopped trembling since the car ride. "I don't know when they'll be back, if at all."  
  
"M-Married?" he stuttered, not believing it for a moment. No. She loved him. She wouldn't marry this man. There was something they didn't know. Bulma was forced to leave, he knew it. "That's impossible," he said sternly, looking Dr. Briefs dead in the eye.  
  
"I'm only relaying the message, my boy. She wanted you to know that she's sorry if she hurt you."  
  
"He forced her to go with him!" he shouted, gripping the cushion he was sitting on. "She would never go with him willingly! She. Loves. Me."  
  
"Vegeta, please," Dr. Briefs tried to reason. "There's nothing we can do until she comes home. The police won't lift a finger because she gave no signs that she was forced. And if we lie, and the police go searching for her and she tells them she told us she went willingly, then it will only cause bigger problems…I promise you, Vegeta, she is in no danger."  
  
"No danger!" he spat, rising to his feet. "No danger! Have you seen her scars! Were you not there when she was taken to the emergency room! Were you in a fucking coma for two years! He's hurt her before and he'll do it again! I won't give up until I find her! I don't care if I have to do it alone!"  
  
"Listen to me Vegeta!" It was Dr. Briefs' turn to yell. He was to his feet as well, his hands holding Vegeta's arms tightly, forcing him to meet his eyes. "She loves you. Takao hurt her because she didn't do what he wanted. She didn't think she had anything worth living for, and so she fought back. She won't risk that this time. If there's a chance she can see you again, she won't put her life in danger. The moment she comes home we can figure a way to get that man locked away for the rest of his life, but for now there's nothing we can do…I'm sorry."  
  
"You're all pathetic," he said under his breath, slipping from his grasp onto the couch.  
  
"If you try to find her, he might kill her," Mrs. Briefs said, her hand shaking as she touched Vegeta's knee. "Please, let our baby come home. Listen to my husband, listen to your heart. Bulma told you what this man was like. You know we're right. We want to go searching for her just as much as you do…" She trailed off, her voice beginning to become choked with sobs. Vegeta sighed deeply and nodded. He knew they were right.  
  
"I will kill him," he stated firmly, his eyes forward and unseeing. "That bastard better pray I never see him."  
  
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Flashback:  
  
Bulma smoothed down the fabric of her black designer dress and overlooked herself in the mirror one last time. She could not believe she'd agreed to do this, but it was too late now. Eizan Sunada, who she loathed more than he could possibly know, would be here any moment. The time to back out had passed, and now she had to spend an entire evening with him. It made her head hurt just thinking about it.  
  
She groaned a loud at the sound of the doorbell, and went to answer it.  
  
"Bulma, darling," Eizan said, presenting her a bouquet of white roses. She grabbed them roughly and tossed them over her shoulder.  
  
"I hate white roses," she said harshly, grabbing her coat.  
  
"Of course you do," he laughed. He offered her his arm, which she refused, and they walked to his limo. The chauffer, already standing beside the back door, opened it and helped Bulma inside. There were two other people in the cabin, a man and a woman, the second half of the double date. "Bulma, I would like you to meet some of my closest friends. This is Aki Daishi, world famous actress and model, as you must know." Bulma nodded. Who didn't know the name Aki Daishi? "And this young fox, your blind date for the evening, is Aki's kid brother."  
  
"Does the fox have a name?" Bulma asked, her eyes proverbially glued to the gorgeous man that sat across from her. Maybe agreeing to go on this date wasn't such a bad idea after all.  
  
"My name is Takao," the man said, reaching for her hand, which he kissed gently, giving her the most sensual of chills. "I've been in love with you since the moment I saw your picture. And I will do whatever it takes for you to marry me."  
  
End Flashback  
  
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---Chapter 11! Wow! Kami! Nooo! Bad Takao! Evil Takao! Vegeta needs to kill him and fast!  
  
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Next time: A WEDDING!??? 


	12. The Aftermath

Last time:  
  
"Does the fox have a name?" Bulma asked, her eyes proverbially glued to the gorgeous man that sat across from her. Maybe agreeing to go on this date wasn't such a bad idea after all.  
  
"My name is Takao," the man said, reaching for her hand, which he kissed gently, giving her the most sensual of chills. "I've been in love with you since the moment I saw your picture. And I will do whatever it takes for you to marry me."  
  
End Flashback  
  
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Chi-Chi sat shivering on her living room couch, her friends surrounding her, eyes wide and unbelieving. How could her story be true? Bulma and Vegeta together? Bulma beaten by her ex? Bulma kidnapped by her ex? None of it made sense, but only because she had told none of them these things. Wouldn't she have? Weren't they important enough to her that she would tell them?  
  
But Chi-Chi's fear was enough to convince them all.  
  
"Is there anything we can do?" 18 whispered, her voice trembling. Krillin sat at her side, holding her hand firmly.  
  
"Mrs. Briefs said there was nothing. If-If…" She choked down a sob and shook her head. "If anyone tries, he might hurt her."  
  
"We should have listened to her that first night," 18 said suddenly after a long, agonizing silence. "She was trying to tell us! And we were too stubborn to listen!"  
  
"It's not your fault, 18," Krillin tried to reason. "She could have told you other times." Immediately he realized the harshness of his words and quickly added, "She was probably afraid."  
  
"Someone should tell Taisho and 17," Goku said, glancing at the phone on the side table. No one moved to grab it. No one wanted to be the bearer of bad news. Or maybe no one wanted to admit to another the fear and anxiety they were feeling—they still wanted to believe it wasn't true.  
  
Goku reached for the phone.  
  
"No," 18 said, pulling his hand back. "He's my brother. I'll tell him."  
  
"And Taisho?"  
  
"I can tell him too." She stood, pressing on Krillin's shoulder so he wouldn't follow her, silently telling him that she needed to do this alone. She was out the door without another word.  
  
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Vegeta lay, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling as if it would somehow produce the answers he so desperately sought. Why, in Kami's name, would she willingly go with that man? Had she tried to fight him and failed? Had he threatened her life? Had he hurt her in any way?  
  
He closed his eyes tight and rolled to his side, trying to no avail to push images of her in pain from his mind. When had life hurt so bad?  
  
"Vegeta," called a feminine voice from the hall. There was a soft knock at the door, followed by the turning of the knob.  
  
"I told you I wasn't hungry," he said as she approached the bed. He felt the mattress give way a little as she sat beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder.  
  
"You haven't eaten in two days." Her voice was desperate and pleading. He didn't understand why she cared so much. "I could bring it up to you if you don't want to come down."  
  
"When I see Bulma," he said, opening his eyes, "I will eat. Not until."  
  
"Oh Vegeta," she sighed as she stood. "At least call your aunt. She must be worried sick wondering where you are."  
  
"Kick me out if you want," he mumbled, closing his eyes again. "I'm not going on my own."  
  
Mrs. Briefs sighed, defeated, and exited her daughter's room fighting tears. She had to be strong with Vegeta here; she had to be strong for herself. If she thought too much about Bulma, she would not be able to endure her absence, however long that might be.  
  
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Bulma opened her eyes as the smell of fresh, warm cinnamon buns floated through the air. She glanced at the bedside clock and sat up; it was well passed noon. Why hadn't Takao woken her? And where was he?  
  
A sudden sound from the next room gave her the answer. The sound of metal on metal; he was bringing her breakfast in bed. She frowned suddenly at the thought of food and pulled the fluffy comforter close to her now shivering body. It was so familiar being here, in this old apartment, high up in the clouds; one of those huge places that appear to be homes when you're inside, and business skyscraper when on the outside. They were back in Tokyo and she heart was aching for anywhere else.  
  
But it was too late for that now, wasn't it? She'd told her parents that she was in love with this awful man and that she would marry him. And, if this was what her life was meant to be, then she didn't want to go back to Watanabe City. She would live out her life with Takao here, in Tokyo, and be just as big a superstar as she was now. She would visit her family on holidays, or, if it hurt too badly, she would bring them here. Surely her husband wouldn't refute that request? Seeing her friends again would be impossible, however, she knew that without having to test it. Seeing them, in Takao's eyes, would lead to seeing Vegeta, who she prayed she would be able to forget. If she couldn't be with him, she didn't want to know him, or, most importantly, love him.  
  
"How am I going to do this?" she whispered into her knees, pressed almost painfully against her chest. But the answer was simple enough. Acting. It was her job, her talent, her only refuge now. She would pretend for the rest of her life; pretend to be happy; pretend to want Takao; pretend to hate Vegeta, or at least, to not love him; pretend that the world was good and that she could survive this way.  
  
She closed her eyes and saw the steaming tub she'd been in last night, wondering if she had really meant to taker her life under the water. Certainly she had not, but now, as the thought wove it's way through her mind, she couldn't think of a logical reason NOT to. She prayed for some freak accident, and sighed. She would never have such luck. And the strength to do the deed herself? Never…  
  
"I'm so weak..." She wanted to cry, to get her ever-building frustration out, but that would only lead to unwanted questions and accusations. It was the last thing she needed after the night she'd had last night. Her life as she knew it was over and she was going to have to accept that one way or another.  
  
"You're awake," came Takao's deep voice, nearly startling her. He came to her side immediately, a silver tray piled with breakfast foods and drinks. He set this on the bedside table and leaned in to give her a quick kiss. It was useless to resist, and so she began her life of pretending. "Did you sleep well?"  
  
"I slept so long," she sighed, leaning back into her soft pillows. "Why didn't you wake me up?"  
  
"You looked so peaceful," he replied with that fake loving tone she'd been so used to. "And after giving you such a start last night, I thought you needed the extra sleep."  
  
Bulma smiled meekly, unsure of how to proceed. He may very well have acquired new rules of which she would have to obey. She didn't want to move for fear of breaking any.  
  
How had she become so pathetic? Surely she'd been strong in the past. But the memories were fading and it made her head ache.  
  
"Thank you," she said after a moment. "I did need to sleep."  
  
"Here." He reached over and lifted a silver plate from the tray; the cinnamon buns she'd smelled earlier. Her stomach churned as he handed it to her. She was so hungry, but to eat his food? It sickened her. "They're your favorite, right?"  
  
"I knew you would remember," she said sweetly, bringing the warm pastry to her lips. She took a small bite and smiled. She should win an academy award for her performance; expertly she held down the bile in her throat and swallowed her food. "Do we have any plans for today?" she asked, setting the bun on the plate.  
  
He handed her a glass of orange juice, extra pulp, and nodded.  
  
"Can I ask what?"  
  
"It's a surprise, of course," he laughed, as he stood. "When I come back I expect that food to be gone." A flash of that deep-seeded rage, almost to quick to see. "I'll just clean up my dishes." The second he was out of sight, she shoved the remainder of the cinnamon bun into her mouth, nearly gagging herself. She finished her meal in five minutes, and sat back, allowing her stomach time to settle before she had to get out of bed.  
  
She was about to get up and stretch, when she heard the faint ringing of a phone. She looked at the telephone in the room, wrinkling her brow. It wasn't coming from there. And then, with horrifying realization, she stumbling gracelessly out of bed and dove at her duffel bag that lay on the floor only feet away.  
  
It was her cell phone, and she wasn't the only one who'd heard it.  
  
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Two weeks passed with agonizing slowness, and still Bulma had made no contact. No sign that she was safe. Nothing. Vegeta was numb with pain and worry; if he ate, it was to stop his aunt from yelling that he was starving himself. Of course she meant well, but how could he eat when she was in danger?  
  
It was six AM, and his alarm was going off. He ignored it, as usual, and rolled over. He'd been to school three times since she was gone, but only when forced, and it never accomplished a thing. He didn't do work, didn't talk, hardly moved, and never brought home books. His teachers tried to be sympathetic to his tragedy, but no one was even sure there was anything to worry about. Bulma had left on her own! It was all over the news. Most people thought he was crazy, thinking that he'd had a relationship with Bulma Briefs.  
  
"Vegeta!" called his aunt, as she opened his bedroom door. He would have locked it if his uncle hadn't broken the lock last week, banging on the door for him to come out and go to school. "Vegeta, please get out of bed. You have school in twenty minutes."  
  
"I'm not going," he sighed, not looking at her. Of course, she expected this and only shook her head. It hurt her to no end to see Vegeta, the iron heart, in such a deep state of depression and sadness. This was not her nephew.  
  
"It'll keep your mind busy." How many times had she said that? "Come on." She was at his side now, and she grabbed his arm and pulled him to sit up. "Please, you know how much I hate getting your uncle involved."  
  
"Get him involved," Vegeta spat, lying back down. He doubted very much that she would go through with it. She understood what he went through, because she loved her husband as deeply as he loved Bulma, though he never quite understood what she saw in his uncle.  
  
"Vegeta," she sighed heavily and took a seat beside him. She placed her hand lovingly on his side. Though neither spoke it, they had shared a strong connection since he came to live with her. "I understand what you're going through. But—"  
  
"How can you possibly understand? You have your husband and you're happy. Stop patronizing me and go away."  
  
"Believe it or not, I loved someone before I met Okura." Vegeta's ears perked, but there was no way for his aunt to know that he was actually listening. "I was sixteen," she said, her lips stretching into the most serene of smiles. "Don't think I don't love your uncle. I love him with all my heart, but only because I lost my old love." Her eyes misted and she ignored the tinge between them. "I would have followed Teika anywhere had he asked…We were walking home, in the dark. It was raining." She paused suddenly and turned away. "We never saw the car until the headlights were in our eyes…Teika pushed me out of the way…He…He died instantly…"  
  
Vegeta was sitting up now, yet he didn't recall consciously doing it. His aunt sat sniffing softly beside him. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, laying his head against her. She held him close to her, kissing his forehead tenderly, the way she had when he was very young and would allow such things.  
  
"So please don't tell me I don't understand," she said after a moment. "I understand better than you know. You still have your chance to get her back. You've seen her in the papers, walking arm in arm with that man. She's alive and you still have a chance. Don't wallow here waiting for her. When she can, she'll escape and come back to you. I know she will."  
  
"And what makes you so sure she can? Don't you think he expects it?"  
  
"She loves you more than you could ever realize, Vegeta. I never knew you two were together, but when I saw the way she looked at you when she first came back, I thought, 'I know exactly how she feels.' She couldn't stop looking at you, no matter how angry she was supposed to act."  
  
"And me going to school?" he asked, his voice low and unthreatening. He didn't want to upset her anymore than she already was on account of him and his stubborn anger. "What will that do? I can't forget about her, you should know that," he said almost harshly. He sighed, bowing his head. He hadn't meant that.  
  
"I think you need to start getting back into normal routine," she answered, ignoring his rudeness. "Lying in bed all day isn't going to bring Bulma back."  
  
Vegeta frowned and pulled his covers back. His aunt smiled and stood to leave, offering him her hand. He refused, trudging to his dresser. She knew that would work, no matter how it pained her to think about it. Her fallen love…  
  
She prayed only that Vegeta would get Bulma back before it was too late.  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Bulma stood in front of the full-length mirror, a glowing smile gracing her lips; she looked more than beautiful in the white designer gown. Her dressing attendant stood with her hands on her hips, eyeing her hard work with an approving smile. For weeks she'd been back and forth to the dress shop, trying this and that dress and finding many she liked but none she loved. Of course, this was all a ploy to stretch the date until the wedding. Her smile was a beautiful work of art, a mirror of a true smile.  
  
"You make a gorgeous bride, Miss Briefs," the woman said with a heavy Spanish accent. "This dress is perfect for you."  
  
"Only because you made it that way," Bulma said shyly, her eyes on her reflection. After much "persuasion" from Takao, Bulma finally picked a gown she wanted, but insisted it be altered to her specifications. That was where the seamstress came in, and, though it was by no means a happy occasion for Bulma, she couldn't deny how wonderful the dress looked. If only she were wearing it for another person. "Thank you so much for being patient with me. I just wanted it to be—"  
  
"Perfect?" she cut in.  
  
"Yes," she sighed, forcing her smile to remain. "Perfect…"  
  
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
"Flowers!" Takao bellowed, his fists clenched at his sides. Bulma stood on the opposite side of the room, pressed to the doorway, ready to flee if he should choose to get violent, again. "You want to postpone the wedding further because you don't like the damn flowers!"  
  
Bulma nodded quickly, her knuckles white as she clutched the doorframe.  
  
"What is so bad about the flowers we have?" He lowered his voice considerably and motioned for her to come to him. She hesitated, then rushed into his arms.  
  
"Forgive me," she whispered into his chest. He was so strong. "I only want everything to be perfect." The words she'd used only hours ago in the boutique. But they were so useful. "You know, darling," she said, lifting her head to look him in the eye, "the way I always dreamed when I was a little girl."  
  
"Very well," he sighed, giving in. "But this is the last change you make, is that clear? The wedding is in five days, no matter what."  
  
"Of course," she said sweetly, leaning up on her tiptoes to give him a loving kiss on the lips. He wrapped his arms, with their thick corded muscles, around her tiny body, deepening the kiss. Within seconds, they were on the bed and Bulma felt herself shudder. This moment she had avoided for weeks, feigning sleep or hunger or some other equally ridiculous excuse. Now that she had foolishly given him the green light, though she hadn't known or wanted to—the kiss had been an apology, a way to keep her safe for another day—she was stuck; she would have to go through with it.  
  
"You're trembling, my love," Takao whispered huskily into her neck, giving it hot kisses and small painless nips.  
  
"I've been so long without you," she replied, straining a meek, embarrassed-looking smile.  
  
"Then I'll be slow with you." He covered her mouth with his, bringing a hand up into her loose aqua locks. "You have no idea how long I've waited to have you back," he said, his other hand pulling at her robe tie and separating the flaps. She wore only one of the silk teddies he'd bought her and said she "should" wear after bathing. She cursed herself for taking that long bath after going to the dress shop; but Kami had she needed it, and the break from seeing or hearing her fiancé.  
  
He was about to remove her robe completely, when the desk telephone rang. He swore under his breath, then stood to answer it.  
  
"What?" he snapped at the man on the other end of the line. "What do you mean, there's a problem with my account?…Identity theft!…Can you find out who stole my card?…Yes, of course…Thank you. Good-bye."  
  
Bulma slid off the bed and came to his side, wrapping her small arms around his middle. Kami, they had good timing.  
  
"Forgive me, my love," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I have to get to the bank and straighten this matter out."  
  
"You're worth the wait, darling," she whispered, giving him a tight squeeze.  
  
The second he was out the door, she ran to the bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach. In five days she would be married; in four she planned to end her life…  
  
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
---Chapter 12! Meep! Poor Bulma and Vegeta! :( Damn that bastard Takao!…Bulma can't kill herself! No! Vegeta has to save her!  
  
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Next time: Will they get married? Will Bulma go through with her plans? Will Vegeta save her? What will happen!!!! 


	13. Attempted Salvation

Last time:

"You're worth the wait, darling," she whispered, giving him a tight squeeze.

The second he was out the door, she ran to the bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach. In five days she would be married; in four she planned to end her life…

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Bulma sat clutching her burning throat, one elbow resting on the toilet bowl, the taste of vomit still on her tongue. She sat back, holding her head in her hands, her knees pressed into her chest. It would be so much easier for everyone if she were dead and gone, but, as appealing as the thought was at the moment, her heart just wasn't in it. It would take much more—much more abuse, much more depression, much more of this life—for her to even seriously consider it.

With that in mind, she eased herself to her feet, grabbing for her toothbrush. She was about to spit out her mouthwash, when there was a knock at the door. She spit it into the sink, wiped her mouth quickly, and went to answer it. Maybe Takao forgot his keys.

But it was not Takao when she opened the door. And the moment her mind registered who was standing in front of her, her brain went hazy and her legs collapsed from under her. The last thing she remembered was strong arms holding her up and carrying her inside.

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"You just called my apartment twenty minutes ago!" Takao bellowed at the bank manager, a short round man with a jet-black mustache that curled relentlessly at the ends. "You said someone stole one of my credit cards and was charging it! I know your voice, Kyubei!"

"Sir," Mr. Kyubei said, motioning for him to sit. "Please, lower your voice. You're disrupting the rest of my clients."

Takao looked around the large, marble-walled room, then took a seat slowly. He glared daggers at Kyubei, folding his hands over his knees. He was not happy.

"My accounts are vital to your pathetic little bank," Takao hissed, knowing the threat was useless. That had been true ten years ago, when Kyubei had been his close friend and confidant; the bank had been about to go under when Takao offered his assistance. Now the two men were little more than acquaintances. Funny how fame, women, alcohol, and greed can change a friendship. Kyubei pitied the man that sat before him. He curled his plump fingers around his old tarnished pocket watch; silly to carry something so gaudy nowadays, but it had been his father's and his father's before it. He cherished it more than his bank.

"That isn't true anymore, Mr. Daishi," Mr. Kyubei said calmly. It would have been so out of line, and out of character for that matter, for him to tell Takao exactly what he thought of him. But just to see the look in his dark, sunken eyes would bring the old man great satisfaction. "And, in the matter of your credit cards, did you even bother to check if any were missing?"

Takao frowned and pulled out his wallet. Checking the contents carefully, he gave a soft groan. Obviously, they were all there.

"Then why would you call my house?" he demanded furiously. What if Bulma got up the nerve to escape? He could not have that!

"It seems you have been pranked," Mr. Kyubei said. "No one from this bank called your apartment. No one has stolen or used your credit cards." He stood, extending his hand to Takao, who refused it as his disgusted by the slightly wrinkled skin. "Good day, Mr. Daishi."

Takao stomped out of the bank, pushing against people that happened to cross his path. By the time he reached his car he was in a complete rage. And, for a moment, all he could think of was his sister, Aki, and how he missed her.

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Flashback:

"I don't know you anymore, Takao!" she screamed, her back pressed against the closed door, eyes laced with gleaming tears. How badly he wanted to crush her against him, the way he had when their parents died, and tell her that everything would be fine. But that was wrong now, and he knew that.

"Aki," he whispered, his voice trembling. She was the only person who could bring him to such a state. His baby sister, the only thing he truly loved anymore. "Please, listen—"

"To what, Tak?" she all but gasped, glaring viciously at her. The only thing worse than her tears, was her anger. It pained him to no end to see such a beautiful and happy person reach such hideously emotional heights. And he had been the cause of it, again. "Your lies!" Her voice shook in her throat. "I've trusted you for too long!"

"But I never meant—"

"I believed you when you said you didn't hurt Emiko. I believed you when you said Ise had been mugged, again. I even believed you, brother, when you said you never laid a hand on Teruyo. But this time I caught you! I saw you lift your hand and slap Bulma! I heard her cry out for you to stop, and then you laughed!" There was only hurt I her voice now. And a mild confusion. When had her beloved brother become such a monster?

"Do you remember that night mom and dad died?" he asked, his voice nearly inaudible. He had been thirteen at the time, and little Aki had only been six.

Aki nodded slowly. Even now the pain cut her deep.

"Yes," she squeaked out, her voice breaking. "A man robbed the house…Dad tried to stop him, but…" She couldn't go on.

"Believe me now when I tell you it was all a lie. The police lied to you to protect you."

Aki's eyes widened in horror, but she did not speak.

"Our father," he said, voice shaking, "was a horrible man. I can't even begin to tell you how evil he was." He looked up to see that Aki had slid to the floor, her arms clutched tightly around her knees. When he tried to approach her, she backed up into the wall. He stayed still and continued. "He beat our mother. He beat her, and he beat me. That's why she visited her sister so much, because of him!"

"She would never leave us alone with him if he was like that!" Aki snapped, her tears betrayed her true emotional terror.

"She had to!" Takao reasoned. "He was too powerful, and he had never laid a hand on you. She trusted I would protect you, and I did…"

Aki gasped in realization, the scattered and broken images coming back to her. There had been no burglar, only her family, and that blood-soaked living room carpet. Her parents lay, lifeless, on the floor, and Takao stood in the middle of them, clutching a bloody knife in his hand. When he saw her at the bottom of the stairs, he dropped the weapon and ran to her, gathering her up in his arms and out of the house. The rest was a blur.

"He attacked her when she came home that night," Takao continued. "He had been drinking. And earlier that night he had tried to hit you. I grabbed him before he could and you ran away…After he beat me," he breathed, "I went to check on you, and you were safe in your bed…He attacked her because he couldn't touch you, and he'd already had his way with me." Across the room Aki was silent, her eyes wide and glistening. If only she would let him hold her. "By the time I got downstairs, he'd already stabbed her…I ran at him. I didn't care about how much pain I was in…I got the knife somehow and I stabbed him. I don't know how many times, but he was dead when I stood up…I'm so sorry Aki!" He cried miserably into his hands, his mind's eye playing tricks on him; his hands were covered in his father's blood again. He wanted to scream, but his breath caught in his throat and he only sobbed helplessly, his body crumbling to the floor.

"You became him," Aki whispered, as she stood on unsteady legs. "You killed him, and then you became him."

"No!" But the moment he spoke it, he knew it was true. He had so much hate in him. But only love for her! "I love you, Aki. I would never hurt you!"

"I know, Takao. I know." She bowed her head, as if in prayer, finding his eyes across the room. "But you still hurt all those other women…I don't want to know you anymore…I'm sorry. Please understand…"

He ran towards her, without thinking, and pulled her into a savage embrace.

"Don't leave me, Aki," he pleaded.

"Let me go, Takao. Don't make this any harder. Just let go." Her voice was soft and soothing again. He dropped his arms and stepped back, looking deep into her eyes. She'd meant her words. "I still love you, brother."

The door creaked shut behind her. For a moment he stood there, staring at the empty space where she once stood, his eyes welling with tears again.

That night, Bulma paid for his pain.

End Flashback:

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Bulma's eyes fluttered open, and her heart skipped a beat. She had been so such that Vegeta was there with her, in that awful apartment. But it had all been a horrible dream, hadn't it?

She sat up, her eyes already full of tears. She was about to get out of bed, when she heard someone gasp softly behind her. Slowly she turned, her eyes widening, first in shock, and then in happiness as her dream was realized before her eyes.

"Vegeta!" she whispered, as if saying his name any louder would make his presence not real. She stumbled out of bed and into his arms, kissing him feverishly, for if he were a dream, she wanted to feel his kiss again. "I thought I'd never see you again," she cried into his chest. "I missed you so much!"

His face was dark when she looked up at him.

"We have to hurry," he said, looking around as if there were some secret door which they could escape. But the only exit was the front door, and Takao could return at any moment!

But when he pulled Bulma's arm for her to come, she froze up. She heard Takao's words ringing in her head: "I read the papers, my love. But no, I won't touch them. That would do no justice for the disobedience you're showing me right now." He meant to kill Vegeta if she left him, and there was no doubt in her mind that he would go through with it. He was what it meant to be evil.

"Bulma," Vegeta said urgently. "We have to leave. Now."

She shook her head, pulling away from him. He stared at her blankly, releasing her when he felt his hand crushing her wrist.

"But—"

"You have to leave, now," she said, pushing him towards the door. He managed to stop her at the door, kissing her desperately.

"Bulma?"

Her eyes went hazy and she shook her head.

"Leave," she said firmly. "Get out before he gets back!"

"Bulma, listen to me." He grabbed her arms, yanking her almost roughly towards him. "I called him. I told him to go to the bank! He'll find out it was a prank the second he gets there, and then he'll be furious! I will not leave you alone with him."

"You think I can't fend for myself, Vegeta?" she hissed angrily. Inside she wanted to curl into him and let him carry her away. But she couldn't risk his safety. Oh Kami, she loved him! "I have been defending myself since day one! I do not need you!"

The words stung more than she could know. But she didn't care in that moment; all she knew was Takao's face and what he was capable of.

"What did he do to you?" Vegeta whispered, his voice harsh, but his eyes soft and moist. He would cry any moment and her heart would shatter.

"He showed me a love you'll never know."

And even though he knew the words weren't true, his mind made him shrink back and for the first time he wanted to slap her. To hit her so hard that she took it back and begged him to take her away. But it was a fleeting thought before he fully realized it, and, his hands trembling, he gripped the door handle. Bulma's eyes widened slightly, as if she didn't believe what she was seeing, and then she closed them tightly and turned away. Vegeta let the handle go and lunged at her, wrapping his arms frantically around her. She resisted him completely, keeping her shoulders stiff and cold. He kissed her cheek, her neck, her shoulder. With a final tug, she pulled away and disappeared through the bedroom door, slamming it shut.

For a long time Vegeta stood, shocked still, in the foyer. And then he saw, in replay, as she walked away and slammed the door. His eyes misted and he wiped at them furiously.

"You're leaving me for him!" he yelled at the closed door. "Fine!" He banged his fist against the closest wall. "Rot here with him! And never come back! Never!"

He rushed from the apartment, slamming the door, and stomped into the hall. The second the lock clicked, he ran back at the door, hurling his body full force at it. But it was steel, and he only hurt himself. In his anger he had allowed himself to leave her there!

And then he heard the hurried footsteps.

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Bulma swallowed her breath in deep painful gasps. Her back was against the bedroom door, her cheeks were stained, and, as far as she was concerned, she no longer had a heart to be broken. Those screams, his screams, such pain; they echoed relentlessly through her mind.

She wanted to vomit again.

And then she heard the click of the front door lock. She bolted into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. Quickly, she wiped her face clean, padding it dry with a washcloth. She was back in the bedroom the moment he walked through the door.

"Did you fix the problem?" she asked, sitting at the desk. She opened a drawer and pulled out a pad of paper with a list of wedding "items" on it. She wrote something quickly, then slid it back in the drawer. She prayed it looked convincing. Could he know that Vegeta was here? "Takao?"

He looked up at her, his eyes narrowed it that way that sent chills down her spine. He was mad, of course, and she knew exactly why.

"Some moron," he said, gritting his teeth, "prank called me about the bank. There was no problem."

Bulma lifted her hand to her lips, gasping quietly. Oh no! Pranked! She was such a great actress.

"Would you like me to make you something?" she said, coming around to take his coat and briefcase. He allowed her to do this, but refused her offer. Roughly he grabbed her arms and threw her on the bed. She cried out softly, her lips quivering as he climbed on top of her.

"I've had a bad day, my love," he whispered in her ear. "Make me feel better."

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Vegeta sat in his car for an hour before he started the engine. He'd made sure to park far enough away from the building, but he could still see it blocks away; nothing could hide that high-rise. He took a deep breath and pulled into traffic. There was nothing he could do for her now. She'd pushed him away, pushed him so hard that he had deliberately left her there, and, now that Takao had returned, he couldn't go back.

He blasted his favorite "angry music" CD the entire way back to Satan City. But the music only furthered his mood, and by the time he reached his house he was in such a rage he nearly knocked his aunt off her feet as he came crashing through the door.

"Vegeta!" she called after him. He retreated into the basement and locked the door. But what he didn't know was that she'd had a key made. She found it quickly, and unlocked the door. "Vegeta!" she called again, descending the stairs.

He looked up, not questioning how she got in.

"What happened? Where were you? We've been out looking for you all day. The school called and said you got up in the middle of class and left."

"Are you done now?" he snapped, pulling on his boxing gloves.

"Vegeta, I'm only concerned about you, you know that."

He glared heatedly at her.

"Where did you go?"

"Tokyo, ok?"

"Tokyo! What in Kami's name—"

"After your little talk, I did some research," he sighed, loosening his shoulders. "I found out where that bastard lives."

"You went there!" Her eyes widened in horror and she took a step back. He wouldn't do anything that brash, would he?

"Yes, I went there. I called him and made up some bullshit story about credit card fraud. I went to the apartment and I saw her." His voice was shaky now, his hands in fists under the gloves. She could never know the heartbreak he was feeling right now. And coupled with his intense anger—anyone else would have been terrified of him right now. "I told her what happened and I tried to get her to come with me…but she refused…She…She said she loves him and for me to leave her alone…" He sunk to the floor, throwing his gloves off. His aunt was to his side in seconds, holding him to her as she said over and over:

"It'll be ok, Vegeta. It'll be ok. I promise. You'll see. You'll see…"

"No it won't," he shuddered against her, clutching her shoulders. The only other time his aunt had seen him cry was when his parents died. She could feel the tears brimming in her own eyes. How badly she wanted to take away his pain, but she didn't know how! She didn't even have a clue as to where to begin. "She'll marry him…She'll marry him and she won't even tell me why…"

"Maybe—"

"Don't," he sighed, pulling back and wiping his eyes. "Don't…"

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---Chapter 13!!!! Well, that was a weird note to end on. I don't know if I liked the end of that chapter, but I'll make it up next time! I swear! The rest of the chapter was good, or so I like to think :P

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Next time: How will they stop the wedding!? Will they stop it!? AHHHHHHHHH! 


	14. Wedding Bells

Last time:

"No it won't," he shuddered against her, clutching her shoulders. The only other time his aunt had seen him cry was when his parents died. She could feel the tears brimming in her own eyes. How badly she wanted to take away his pain, but she didn't know how! She didn't even have a clue as to where to begin. "She'll marry him…She'll marry him and she won't even tell me why…"

"Maybe—"

"Don't," he sighed, pulling back and wiping his eyes. "Don't…"

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The chapel was small, its four white walls nestled comfortably into a patch of lustrous green grass; how amazing this little place could be found in a city as grand as Tokyo. The wedding party was just as small, a gathering of mostly business friends and no family. The paparazzi sat in sleek black cars, awaiting the arrival of the bride and groom. No one could figure how the papers had found out, though, after having been in the spotlight most of their lives, no one really gave them a second glance. After all, there were very few of them, and they were behaving themselves…so far.

"I can't believe they're really getting married," said one woman to another; old acquaintances of both Bulma and Takao; actresses they had worked with at one time or another.

"I know," the other woman said, her voice holding the same mild shock. "They only dated a few months, and then Bulma was with that no-name boy from Satan City. What happened to him?"

"Takao had to leave for a while," a man butted in. They smiled and welcomed him to their conversation. "Something urgent came up and he didn't know how long he was going to be gone, so they split up."

One of the women gasped quietly and touched her chest.

"Months later," the man went on, "Bulma reunited with some old school friends in Satan City. That no-name boy was an old flame."

"But then Takao came back?" the shorter of the two women asked.

"Exactly," he said, sighing a little. He was a very good friend of Bulma's, as old as he was. They had worked together on several projects, and though they had nearly been intimate, he saw her only with fatherly eyes now. And he did not trust this fiancé of hers in the least.

"What is your name?"

The man looked up and smiled. It occurred to him that he knew who these women were, had seen their faces in many different places, but they had never met. Beautiful, young, new actresses, the same as his Bulma had been. But he was getting carried away in his thoughts. At forty-three, he was much too old to be flirting with twenty-something women, though he knew he could very well get them if he tried. And try he had with Bulma Briefs. If she hadn't been a virgin then, he may have accepted her offer to join her in her hotel room. But she had been, and still was, but a child! Sixteen years old and she was trying to seduce him, and doing a wonderful job at it. She was eighteen now, a little more filled out, and far more mature, but still so young.

"Aida," he said, extending his hand to one, then the other. He should not be thinking such things in a room full of people. "Monzaemon Aida."

The girls gasped in unison. He laughed softly under his breath. Perhaps he looked different in person. He offered the girls his arms, and escorted them out of the hall and into the chapel.

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"Is this really necessary?" Vegeta huffed, glaring at his aunt through the mirror. She smiled and continued to straighten his tie.

"Of course it is," she said. "How do you expect to blend in at a wedding without a tux?"

He was beginning to dread having asked for her help. But there was no doubt in his mind that he desperately needed the help. His friends would, of course, offer their help in a heartbeat; but this was just something he knew he needed to do without them. If she really married this man, it was him that she would never see again, not the others.

It was four years ago and his heart was broken again.

"Vegeta," his aunt sighed, pulling him to her, her head resting on his back. It was affection he reserved only for Bulma, and though he allowed her to do this. Maybe there was a deeper connection with his aunt that he never knew existed until now. The thought frightened him slightly; could he have been missing out all these years? He decided it was best not to think about it right now. "I'm so happy you asked me to help you. And you love Bulma, you really love her. You can't know how good it is to know that. Your uncle thinks you're hopeless, but I've always had faith in you. I know you can win her back."

Vegeta grabbed her arm suddenly and held it, pressing it to his chest; a simple gesture that displayed a world of meaning. He was accepting her words and telling her silently that he was not going to mock her, or give some crude remark that would ruin the moment. And he was thanking her for being there for him.

Their world was forever changed.

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Bulma smiled despite the sickening depression that stirred in her soul. The seamstress was there, giving her dress last minute adjustments, and the last thing she wanted was word to get back to Takao that she was unhappy on their wedding day. Thankfully, her bruises were light enough that make-up could hide them and there would be no questions.

"Gorgeous," the seamstress said, eyeing her work. "Every woman here will be jealous of you, Bulma."

"Thank you," she said, turning and clasping her hand. "You've been so patient with me. Thank you so much."

"It's my job, miss. But I do so enjoy what I do." She pulled away and gathered her belongings. "I will see you at the reception, Bulma. And congratulations."

Bulma smiled and nodded as she backed out of the room. The moment the door closed her lips sunk into a frown and she turned away from the mirror. A wedding dress at her age! Where was a bathroom when she needed one?

She was about to take a seat at the vanity, to compose herself before she was wanted in the main chapel, when there was a soft knock at the door. She groaned under her breath, but told them to come in. Why not?

But when the door opened she couldn't believe her eyes and her breath caught in her throat for a moment. Maybe she could find the silver lining in this horrible day?

"Monzae!" she cried, jumping into his arms, indifferent to the fact that she was possibly ruining her dress. What did she care for the thing anyway? It represented so much she hated. "Kami, I've missed you! Where have you been?" She hadn't meant to, but as she kissed his face wildly in unbridled excitement, her lips made contact with his. Immediately she took a step back and smiled awkwardly up at him, a deep blush in her cheeks. The last time she let her excitement get the better of her they ended up half naked in the back of a limo. And while she didn't feel the same now as she had then for this man, she could not deny her attraction to him. If there was no Takao, or no Vegeta, she would want this man. But she mustn't think about Vegeta right now, lest she cry and ruin her carefully applied make-up. And Takao, well, Takao would always be on her mind in one form or another; and it was imperative that she think of him now, or her excitement would get the better of her. How she had missed Monzaemon in these long months.

"I've had so much going on, child," he said, stroking her cheek lovingly. She frowned and looked away.

"Don't call me that," she said. "I'm not so young. You wanted me once." She lifted her eyes and looked directly at him. Yes, forget about Vegeta and all the pain that such thoughts bring. He is gone forever, and I have to move on. Nothing good can come from thinking about something that I will never have.

"I was a bad man then," Monzaemon said with a heavy sigh. How wrong for him to still want her now. But he should never let her know that. There was something off about her fiancé. He doubted not the severity of the hold he had on her. "And you are a child, Bulma. I'm twenty-five years older than you, for Kami's sake. I told you that two years ago."

"How modest you are," she laughed. Oh how good it felt to laugh. If Monzaemon could be with her, be her friend for the rest of her life, then maybe she could get through it. "You think I still want you?"

He frowned, his cheeks reddening noticeably.

"I only—"

But his words were cut off abruptly as her soft warm lips made contact with his. A crude and agonizing guilt rose in her immediately, the thought that she was betraying her love for Vegeta by coming onto this man. But it was passion that could numb her mind, force her painful thoughts away for a few sweet moments. And she needed that desperately. That, and it could make her feel a world better when she next saw Takao. Like she was saying, "Ha! I cheated on you, you bastard!" Though she would never say such things to him.

"Bulma, no," Monzaemon said firmly, pushing her back. She looked up at him, first in horror, and then in anger. How dare he! "I can't."

"Like hell you can't," she snapped, stepping back. But she was so unbelievably relieved that he'd stopped her. What a horrible mistake she could have made. It was embarrassment that made her yell at him now. "Go away. Get out of the room. I don't want to see you right now."

"But Bulma—"

"Get out!" She grabbed something and threw it at him. It shattered, whatever it was, as it crashed into the door. Monzaemon tried to grab hold of her, to calm her, but she wouldn't have it, and it only accomplished annoying her further. By the time he was out of the room, she needed to redo her hair.

The wedding started in twenty minutes.

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Vegeta allowed his aunt to embrace him one last time before he got out of the car. In his generic black tuxedo, and more than good-looking features, he blended right in with the crowd that still hadn't entered the chapel yet. Old friends and associates catching up before they had to go in and be silent for an hour. He stood, hands in his pockets, at the base of the stairs, as if waiting for some signal that would tell him when to do what he planned to do. Hopefully, in the rush these people would create going into the building, his lack of invitation would go unnoticed.

One hand was gripped firmly on the railing; a thin layer of sweat began to collect on his brow. He wiped it away with the other hand. And all the while he could think only one thing: She's in there! I'm so close!

And then his thoughts separated and drifted. He was in his basement, his knuckles raw and bleeding, his lips curled into a constant grimace, and his heart full of pure hatred. His punches had been meant for her then, powered by a fiery passion and a deep-rooted sadness that he chose to ignore rather than deal with. And now—standing at the bottom of the chapel's steps, the love of his life held captive inside and about to be taken away forever—he could not believe that he had been that person and that he had ever tried, even for a moment, to forget Bulma and all she stood for.

He turned suddenly at a rustling in the crowd. Someone new had arrived, and they were causing quite a stir. And he could not tell by the looks on the people's faces whether it was a good stir or not. He heard clips of conversation and gossip in low, frantic whispers.

"Where has she been?"

"When did they—"

"I haven't seen her in—"

He stepped away from the railing to get a look at this woman. She walked slowly towards the chapel, having driven and parked her own car, her long black hair flowing in her wake. She wore a simple dress with short sleeves and a hem at the knees; and it was black. Black as the small hat she wore, adorned with a sheer black veil that came to her chin. She was dressed for a funeral.

And then the bell tolled and the guests rushed into the church as if they were cattle being herded by their master. Vegeta stayed behind, as he had planned to, unable to keep his eyes off this woman. There was something so intriguing and familiar; and she was doing a horrible job at looking inconspicuous. A five minute walk from the parking lot with traffic, took her ten minutes without. She was waiting for something too.

"Focus," he told himself, turning away from her. But what if she would get in his way? What if Takao expected him to crash the wedding and had sent this woman to stop him? Was that what she was looking around for?

He shook his head and climbed the stairs. But, to his complete horror, when he pulled at the doors, they didn't even jiggle. They'd been locked and he saw no other entrance he could conceivably get through in time. And the woman, she was advancing at him in a sudden rush of speed. He took a deep breath and concentrated. He was not paranoid!

"Excuse me," came a soft feminine voice from behind him. He went rigid, his hand still clutching the door handle.

"I don't have time," Vegeta shot back, giving the chapel doors another furious tug. But it was no use and he knew that.

"Well neither do I, but you don't see me being rude." Something in her tone made him drop his hands and turn around.

"Look lady, I'm not going to this wedding to watch the 'happy couple' ruin their lives. Now leave me alone." He was about to walk down the stairs and search for another entrance, when she grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"I think we have the same motives."

Vegeta arched an eyebrow at her. Who was this woman?

"My name is Aki Daishi, and the groom is my brother…"

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Monzaemon sulked in the furthest pew back, his matching gray hat in his lap. He had abandoned his young beauties upon reentry, but they hadn't really wanted him at any rate; they'd found a new beau to ogle over, a man closer to their age and far better looking, by his standards anyway. They had only wanted him for his fame and fortune, but Bulma, ah, she had wanted him for love and companionship. Well, that had been the case two years ago. Now she was desperate for affection from anyone, though he doubted Takao fit her profile.

And there was something else too, wasn't there? The look in her eyes as she screamed at him to leave. She was hurt, a deep and ever-growing emotional pain that he knew all too well. His first love, at the age of seventeen, had been taken from him by illness. She was dying inside and it seemed he was the only one who noticed.

But another, though equally disturbing, thing caught his attention as well. Where were the families of the bride and groom? Surely their parents should be here?

He sat back and sighed. How awful that a girl so young and beautiful and talented could have so many skeletons in her closet. He was about to give reconciliation another try, when the bell tolled and he sat back down. Perhaps she would speak with him after the ceremony, when her nerves weren't so tightly wound. A light, fluttering music commenced at the front of the chapel and everyone's attention was turned to the doorway just behind him. He didn't bother to turn around; it was a freak show as far as he was concerned. Married at eighteen? No. He did not want to see this.

Quickly, before any of the brides' maids and ushers started to parade in, he slipped out of his pew and out the doorway. He collected his coat by the outer door and went out onto the small cement porch. What a relief to be out of such a stale, stuffy environment. Now he could breath.

He was halfway down the steps, when he heard hushed voices from around the corner of the building. Quietly, he inched his way behind a bush, ducking so they wouldn't spot him. And, upon seeing who it was, he had to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep from gasping aloud.

Aki Daishi! Takao's sister!

He crouched lower and listened.

"You could have stopped it and you didn't!" the unfamiliar man snapped, looking for all the world to be a madman. And how young he was! Couldn't be more than twenty.

"I was as helpless as she was!" Aki shot back, his small fists clenched at her sides.

"You chose to do nothing!"

"You have no right saying these things to me, you, you—"

"What? Nobody?"

Even though Monzaemon couldn't see her face clearly, he could tell she was embarrassed. Her shoulders sunk and she took a step forward, clasping the man's hand suddenly.

"We can save her now," she whispered frantically. The man's eyes widened, then narrowed and he pushed her back.

"What makes you think I'll trust you? And, even if we got into the church, how are we both going to get by unnoticed? Everyone knows who you are!"

"I can get you passed them," Monzaemon said, his words coming before his thoughts. He emerged from behind the bush and came forward. Aki stared at him, shocked for a moment, then smiled. "I have an invitation and I would do anything to protect Bulma."

Vegeta looked at this new stranger with nothing short of contempt. But then, just when Monzaemon thought he would deny him, the young man's face softened and he nodded.

"I am not going to lose her this time," he said firmly. "Now, how do you plan to get us in?"

Monzaemon only smiled and motioned for them to follow him.

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---Chapter 14!!! :) Meeeeeeeep! Can they get her back! PLEASE! SOMEONE! SAVE HER!!!

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Next time: A rescue? Find out!

Note: No, Bulma is NOT a whore. She was only latching onto Monzaemon because she was scared and needed comfort, and in her state of mind, that could mean sex. I mean, she's not very stable at all. She needs medical help, so don't judge her! :(

Note 2: The reason Vegeta knew the location of the wedding was because he called a newspaper and told them that Bulma Briefs and Takao Daishi were getting married. The paper did the research, found the location, then told him where it was going to be. They would have paid him, but he only wanted the information, and they had no problem giving that out…Does that make sense? 


	15. Rescue?

Last time:

"I am not going to lose her this time," he said firmly. "Now, how do you plan to get us in?"

Monzaemon only smiled and motioned for them to follow him.

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Bulma's entire form tensed, her fingers turned to claws, clutching the arm of a man she had never seen before. His soft brown eyes and calm manner did not seem to help, and so he allowed her to stay there, her tear-streaked face pressed into his chest. After sometime—and he wasn't sure when—he'd surrendered to her pleas and pulled her back into the dressing room, where he took a seat in her vanity chair and cradled her like a baby in his arms.

How beautiful she was, he thought, his hands instinctively wiping at her tears as quickly as they fell. Yes, of course, she was famous, and rich, and brilliant beyond compare, but how gorgeous she really was no one could ever see, or so he fantasized. He wouldn't allow his mind to stay on thoughts involving her clothes-less body, her gasping breaths, her sweat-covered brow. Oh Kami, what he could do with her!

Suddenly she stirred, her eyes gleaming up at him, as if seeing him for the first time, which could very well be true. Slowly, her lips wet and pursed, she leaned in, her right hand creeping around to the back of his neck. This time it was his turn to tense, as her lips made contact with his.

"Take me away," she whispered, her tongue snaking down to the base of his neck. "Take me away from here, from him. I can't do this."

"You don't even know my name," he breathed. Was his heart racing? Or had it ceased to beat altogether? For a moment he doubted he was even alive anymore.

"I can learn everything in time." At first her voice had been husky, inviting. Now, as her true emotion began to peak through, her voice was shaky, slightly scared. How had he missed that fear in her eyes before? Was she that great an actress that she could have masked such pain for this long? He had been so sure it was lust. "Please, slip out the back door. No one will see us."

"Bulma," he whispered, realizing it was the first time he'd called her by name since their brief meeting. "I—" He wanted to say that there was no possible way they could get away with it; that Takao would hunt them down until he found them, then Kami knows what he would do. "I came here with someone," was what he said instead. Which was, of course, true, for how else could he gain access to the wedding of the year? Tanya, his date, had been his lover—if they could still be called that—for six years on and off. A chance to see her celebrity friends was the only reason he agreed to come.

"Forget her for ten minutes," she whispered huskily, her hot lips on his neck again. How could he resist such need? Such desire? Oh, if only he really could take her out of here. "Pretend I'm her."

His eyes widened as her hand plunged to unbuckle his belt, his button; to unzip his pants. She was not kidding when she said she wanted him. If only he had the willpower to push her away.

She was about to pull up her skirts up, to actually go through with the deed, when there was a frantic knock at the door. Quickly, she climbed off him and checked herself over in the mirror. Almost instantly he had redone his pants and belt, and was to his feet. What would they say when they discovered he was there? She made no attempt to hide him, yanking open the door so fast he didn't have time to think.

"Do you mind?" she spat, and across the room he shuddered. How easily her emotions shifted. Her anger made him almost want to cry.

"The bell has been ringing for ten minutes, Bulma," a woman on the other side said, a deep, menacing frown on her mouth. "What is taking you so long? I sent Yuji to come get you."

"So that's your name," Bulma said, turning to the man behind her. He smiled meekly, his cheeks blushing furiously. "Yuji." Again he shuddered, thinking only the dirtiest of thoughts, and her saying his name over and over in unbridled praise and passion.

"Bulma, do you have cold feet?" the woman pestered, grabbing her wrist almost forcefully. It was more than obvious that these women knew each other. "Takao—"

"I don't—" But then her voice dropped suddenly, and her shoulders sunk. She transformed before Yuji's eyes into the shriveled, crying girl who had sought comfort in his arms. He was beyond ashamed that he could have allowed himself to take advantage of her in such a state.

Slowly, she lifted her head and nodded, giving the unknown woman permission to lead her out of the room and away from him. For a long while he stood, stunned, and staring at the open doorway. And then, pushing all erotic thoughts aside, he puffed himself up and proceeded to the wedding. Would that he could have had her just once. But, then again, wasn't that every man's dream?

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No one in their right mind could say that Bulma Briefs was not the most beautiful bride they had ever seen. Her silky aqua hair was tied back loosely, curls framing her slightly make-uped face, and pearls woven in and out, giving her the appearance of royalty. And that small smile that graced her perfectly full lips; how wonderful that young love could flourish so brilliantly, the guests thought, looking at her in awe as she was led up the aisle by a generic-looking man in a black tuxedo. No one seemed to wonder where her father was, why her mother wasn't crying in the front pew.

Takao, on the other hand, though gorgeous as ever, was sullen and withdrawn, his arms crossed over his broad chest as if this were a chore instead of a blessing. Who wouldn't give their souls to marry such a lusciously wonderful woman? To marry Bulma Briefs herself?

The music of the organ hummed gloriously in the background, its deep soothing rhythms seeming to carry the bride towards the altar, towards her inevitable future. No one could see the apprehension in her eyes, the sheer terror, and how unbearably difficult it was for her to put one foot in front of the other and advance towards the groom. If only one person here knew the truth, this grotesque spectacle would be no more.

"You look like you're going to cry," Takao snapped under his breath as Bulma sidled up beside him, her shoulders tensing. The near-deaf priest had obviously not heard. "I thought you were a good actress."

She looked up and smiled warmly at him, tilting her head just a little to the side, the way she always did in lovey scenes in her movies. It was a pondering sort of look, one that made the audience believe she was examining the person she was looking at, and seeing the reasons for which she'd fallen in love.

The priest cleared his throat, and was about to begin, when there was a rustling from the back of the chapel. Everyone's attention went away from the bride and groom, their eyes falling on Monzaemon Aida, Aki Daishi, and an unknown young man with wild black hair. The sight of Monzaemon received no second glances, but the crowd positively stared at the other two at his sides. He had an invitation, a way to get past the guards at the front doors. How had the others gained access?

"I know it hasn't come to that part yet," Monzaemon said, raising his voice with every word spoken, "but I abject to this marriage."

At the altar, Takao's face turned beet red, his fists clenched at his sides. Instinctively Bulma pinched her eyes shut, anticipating the blow. It hadn't registered yet that Vegeta was there.

The priest fumbled with his bible, mumbled something incoherent, then took a small step back. This had never happened to him before, and he had no clue as to how to proceed, if to proceed.

"Don't tell me your jealousy is getting the better of you, Monzaemon," Takao said playfully; Bulma was the only one who could have seen the fiery anger in his eyes.

"It has nothing to do with jealousy, friend," Monzaemon retorted viciously. And it seemed for the first time Vegeta acknowledged where he was, his eyes traveling towards the altar at the shrunken and shivering bride. It looked for a moment that he would burst, running head on towards her to carry her away; but he simply stood, as if frozen in place, his face void of all emotion. "I do believe the woman's heart belongs to another."

The crowd exploded into a low commotion; a soft hum.

"You?" Takao asked in all seriousness, his anger wavering behind his voice.

"Me?" Monzaemon laughed, holding his stomach dramatically.

"Takao," Aki said suddenly, stepping forward. Takao's head snapped in her direction, his mouth parting slightly, his eyes just faintly wider. He hadn't seen her in his rush of anger at being interrupted. And, now that his eyes were on her, he didn't want to see anyone else. That she'd left didn't matter now. He only wanted to be happy with her for the rest of his life; his devotion to her was almost psychotic. "Takao, please, I asked you once to stop this. I'm begging you now. She doesn't deserve it."

Bulma looked up, her face softening at the sight of Takao's gorgeous younger sister. How she adored her! And how long it had been since she disappeared so many months before. She'd feared she would never see her again.

"Aki," he whispered, his resolve crumbling. How could he go through with marrying Bulma when he knew it was the last thing his dear sister would want? Yet he couldn't see himself not doing it, after having already done so much. He turned abruptly towards Bulma, his eyes boring into her, his bottom lip quivering as if he were about to cry. How beautiful she looked, her tear-laced eyes gleaming at him, her gorgeous designer dress hugging her curves perfectly. That he had ever touched her in anything but a loving way seemed impossible in that moment. Who, in their right mind, would hurt such a stunning creature? And for no reason? "Aki, I—"

But she'd held up her hand to silence him, taking a few more steps forward, though she was nowhere near the altar. A part of her wanted to run up to him and allow him to hold her tightly, the way he had when they were children. But the dominant part was still shattered to the core, and she doubted she could ever see her older brother in a good light again. What horrid things he had done! And without remorse! He cared nothing for the woman standing beside him, the woman he had meant to marry and continue to abuse for the rest of their lives. For a moment she wished she'd never come.

"Takao, promise me you'll get help," she said, catching and holding his gaze. When he looked away her heart sank. No, he would not get help, for he did not believe that he actually had a problem. "Takao, please. It's all I want from you. Then…then we can be how we used to be."

His entire being softened; from the harshness of his eyes, to the tense position he had been standing in. He was the old Takao again, the brother Aki had looked up to and love, and the man which Bulma had believe would save her from all her problems.

"I—" He began, but his voice dropped and his lips turned into a frown. "I don't believe you, dear sister," he said cynically. And all he could think was, What am I doing! She's willing to accept me again and I'm taunting her!! Stop it, Takao! Stop it!

"Takao!"

"I have done nothing wrong," he seethed suddenly, causing a wave of gasps throughout the room. No person present, aside from Aki and Monzaemon, had ever seen Takao as anything but happy. "She—" He pointed a rigid finger at Bulma; she flinched, falling to her knees at his feet. "—is to blame for everything!" But even he didn't believe his words, and he was bracing himself, for the instant Bulma's body fell, Vegeta had taken off and was heading straight for him.

"No!" Bulma cried, springing to life and lunging at the confused figure of Takao. The piercing shot reverberated off the chapel walls, and Takao and Bulma went tumbling to the floor. The wedding was over. The guests were terrified, and someone had run out to call the police. "You won't hurt him!" she yelled, her fist colliding with his jaw for the first time. Kami, how good that felt! When he tried to block her next blow, she jabbed him in the gut, then landed another good punch in the face. "You can hurt me all you want, you bastard, but you will not touch him!"

Oh, this is more than anger, he thought, wanting both to punish her for disobedience, and wrap her in his arms and promise over and over that he would never hurt her again. What was happening to him? Who was he anymore? Certainly not Takao Daishi; certainly not the brother Aki deserved.

The gun rattled on the floor, inches from Vegeta's face on the altar step, his fingers trembling at he reached for it. But it was Bulma's hand that stopped him, as he tried to raise it and seek vengeance. Never before had he held a gun, his finger grazing that sleek trigger; such immense power behind such a tiny piece of metal. How badly he wanted to use this weapon, blow off Takao's head; it was the only justice he deserved.

"Don't," she said, pulling the weapon easily from his hand. "He doesn't deserve to be let off that easily."

She was so calm and serene-looking in that moment, her slightly mussed hair framing her face with an almost angelic glow. It was quite possible that he saw her this way because of what his heart felt, but that didn't matter. She was there, he was there, and there was nothing standing in their way anymore.

Aki kneeled beside her trembling and mildly angry brother, coaxing him to stay put. He wanted to maim Vegeta for having interrupted his plans, but there was nothing he could do now. The police were on their way, and if he ran he would be in ten times worse trouble. Aki keep saying over and over that this was a good thing, that they would provide him with adequate counseling and he could go on living a normal life and put his awful past behind him. Understanding that he had a problem was the first step to recovery, she said. Did he understand that he had a problem? Slowly he nodded, his eyes boring into Vegeta, whose arms were wound tightly around HIS woman.

But Aki was there, and she was the last person he wanted to act out his rage in front of. And so he sat in silence beside her, waiting for the inevitable moment when he would be hauled away and locked up.

And all he could think was, How could I have gone so far?

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She had regressed, naturally, her wedding-dress clad body wrapped in a thick wool blanket from the trunk of the police car. They had been questioning her since the moment they arrived forty-five minutes ago, and Vegeta watched as slowly she began to come apart again. He had known in the back of his head though that this was coming. It was like those moments when a mother can lift a car when her child is trapped underneath. Bulma had been able to come out of her protective shell just long enough to save his life.

And now she was borderline catatonic, and he wshed he could be with her right now.

Aki, after having seen her brother off in one of the many police cars, was now at his side, along with Monzaemon, and a man he did not know. There were no words he could say to the two of them that could express his gratitude. But somehow he knew that they had wanted this to happen just as much as he did.

Takao was officially charged with kidnapping, assault, and attempted murder. Only after both Aki and Bulma pleaded, was the attempted murder charge dropped. Vegeta still didn't understand why Bulma had wanted it dropped, though he decided not to think too much about it. He would ask Bulma sometime in the future when the time was right. As for now, he would help her recover as best as he could.

"Hey Vegeta."

He looked up and forced a smile. Not that he wasn't beyond happy to see her, but the look in her eyes was unbearable to witness. She almost looked ashamed.

"Will you ride with me back to my house?"

He nodded and stood, pulling her instinctively closer. He would find out when they got there whether or not it was appropriate that he stay; whether or not that's what she wanted or needed.

She embraced Monzaemon and Aki before they left, whispering her thanks over and over and giving promises that they would see each other again soon. And then she grabbed the unknown man that Vegeta had been sitting next to on the steps with the others, and hugged him too. The man looked absolutely baffled, but accepted the appreciative gesture. Vegeta knew he would be jealous had this been any other time, any other girl. But with Bulma it was different. She loved him completely and there was no man that could willingly take her from him.

The whole way home they didn't utter a single word to each other. When they were finally inside Capsule Corp., it seemed a gigantic bubble burst, and she was in tears again, though this time of joy, as she hugged and kissed her parents furiously.

He stood back and watched, arms crossed at his chest, wondering what could possibly be going on in her head. There was no way he could stand to be apart from her any longer, whether she needed solitude or not, but he knew that if that was what she wanted, then he would grant it.

Quietly he stepped out onto the front porch, closing the door without a sound, and pulled out his cell phone. His aunt was the first person he called, and he told her exactly what she wanted to hear, that Bulma was safely at home and Takao was in jail. She would tell Taisho for him. And then he called the Gero's house, having a hunch that all his friends were gathered there, awaiting his call. And, sure enough, they were, and each fighting for their chance to speak to him. When he finally got them off the phone, it was nearing dark, but he didn't know if he should go back inside. It was decided for him when the door creaked open and Bulma stepped outside with him, closing it behind her.

"Calling Satan City?" she asked, shying away from him and forcing a tiny laugh.

He nodded and heeded her. No touching, ok.

"The papers are going to have a field day with this," she sighed, taking a step. He opted to stand. What did she want!? "Probably going to wonder how I kept everything so secret for so long."

He nodded again, craving a rich glass of Scotch or Whiskey to numb his emotions.

"I can't begin to thank you for what you did for me."

"It wasn't just for you," he admitted freely. Did they have liquor in the house? But now was no time for getting drunk. He needed to focus on this, as heartbreaking as her small voice sounded.

"I never could have escaped him on my own…"

Vegeta was at her side suddenly, sitting on the step, and clutching her fragile little hands to his chest.

"Just tell me," he said, pain evident in his cold voice. "Anything."

She sighed, trying desperately to force a smile to stop her tears.

"I love you so much, Vegeta," she whimpered, pulling her hands back. "But…But I can't do this right now. I need help, and I know you understand that, because you were trying to get me help and I just turned you away. I didn't want to believe that I was that weak! But then he was in my house and he threatened to kill you if I didn't do what he said."

Vegeta's heart burst. No! No! She'd put herself through that pain for HIS sake! Kami! This was all wrong. It made complete sense, but it was so wrong…

"I just need time to put my life back together, be a whole person before I can commit myself to you."

"You're leaving me?" he asked selfishly, wanting to smack himself for such a comment. Ass!

She nodded slowly and stood up, the salty tears rolling down her cheeks and splashing on unknown spots on the cement steps.

"I won't put you through this," she said, "no matter how much you think you want to be there with me. I can't do it. I…I can't Vegeta…"

He decided, for her sake, to not continue the conversation. They were over right now, and she needed her time to recover and collect herself. And, as badly as he wanted to clutch onto her, kissing her face over and over and tell her exactly how he felt, he simply hugged her once and walked to the curb to wait for the cab she'd said she'd called for him.

"Why Kami?" he whispered angrily as the cab approached in the distance. "You bastard…"

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---Chapter 15!! Meep! Wow, this story moved a lot faster than I thought it would, and a hell of a lot faster than I usually write them :P Heehee! But hey, weee! She's safe! And don't worry about them breaking up, you can't just expect me to leave it here…More more more!! :D

REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (ReviewsMore Chapters)

Next time: Recovery, recollections, reconciliations?? Find out! 


	16. One Deep Breath

Last time:

He decided, for her sake, to not continue the conversation. They were over right now, and she needed her time to recover and collect herself. And, as badly as he wanted to clutch onto her, kissing her face over and over and tell her exactly how he felt, he simply hugged her once and walked to the curb to wait for the cab she'd said she'd called for him.

"Why Kami?" he whispered angrily as the cab approached in the distance. "You bastard…"

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What could have happened?

It didn't make any sense to him, as they relayed, in full detail, the account of what had happened. He understood, of course, their reason for speaking with him, what nothing else made sense!

He wanted to call her suddenly and beg for her forgiveness, tell her that he never meant for any bad to come to her. But they were well beyond that stage now. He highly doubted she would even speak to him again, no matter the circumstance.

"You do understand the severity of these actions, sir?" one of the detectives said, bringing him back. He looked up at the young woman, who couldn't have been older than thirty, and nodded. Of course he understood. "Please." She motioned to the tape recorder he had said they could use.

He cleared his throat and leaned forward, his hands locked together on his lap under the generic metal table.

"Yes," he said. "I understand."

"And you understand the condition in which Miss Briefs is in?"

"Yes, of course." Oh Kami! It was all his fault! "But I never—"

"That will be enough," she said sternly, pressing the STOP button on the recorder. "Thank you for your time Mr. Sunada."

She walked out, giving him a stiff smile, and left him to his thoughts.

And the only thing he could think was, "I have betrayed you, Bulma. Please, Kami, forgive me!"

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"Are you sure you're up to this, Miss Briefs?" the tall, white-haired officer asked.

"Yes, very sure."

He nodded and motioned for her to follow him. Her mother and father had offered to come with her today, though she had refused immediately. She did not think that in her state of mind she could handle anyone being there with her, even Vegeta, who she had not spoken to in nearly two months. Aki had also wanted to accompany her; it took much more convincing to get her to agree to not go.

They stopped at a small desk, where a young man with wire-rimmed glasses sat, reading a tattered Dickens' novel. He glanced once at the I.D. card the officer showed him, then pressed a button unseen beneath the desk, and the large barred door kitty-corner to them clattered open.

Bulma's stomach dropped.

"This way, Miss Briefs," the officer said, touching her elbow lightly. She jumped back and looked up into his eyes. He smiled warmly down at her, and came around her side, putting his arm around her shoulder. "You are perfectly safe. I promise you."

The corridor from there was long and narrow, the walls consisting of large gray bricks and barely lit lights hung on rusted wires overhead. When the officer noticed her apprehension, he assured her that only the halls were in such condition. The rest of the facility was completely humane.

She forced a smile. That was not why she feared to move on.

As they walked along, the light grew brighter, until then were in a small room, bathed in sunlight; there was another man at another desk in the corner. They went through the same routine all over again, only this time there was no long, dimly-lit corridor. And the door which they stood before was normal sized with a small glass window at the top. She had no desire to look inside.

"Is that it?" Bulma asked, pointing to the door.

"Yes, and don't worry. We will monitor you the entire time. You have nothing to fear."

"Thanks," she mumbled, her trepidation rising like a boiling volcano. Any moment she would erupt.

And then, all of a sudden it seemed, the door was open and it was her move. She swallowed a hard lump in her throat, took a deep breath, and walked through the door. She was expecting the door to shut behind her, but nonetheless she jumped as it slammed, her eyes fixed on the table before her and the pale man sitting at it. There was a large mirror behind him; they were watching them from behind it and she felt almost calm as she approached the table and took a seat.

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The glaring sun broke through the poorly shut curtains, interrupting the longest night sleep he had had in months. He rolled over and, as was ritual now, looked at the tear-away calendar on his bedside table.

"Fifty-eight," he groaned, pulling off the page from the day before. He somehow managed to climb out of bed, and not a moment later his cell phone rang. Begrudgingly, he answered it. "What?"

"Are you going to be ready for the game in fifteen minutes?" came Goku's chipper voice. He cringed and hung up the phone. It rang again immediately.

"Yes, Kami," he snapped and chucked the useless piece of plastic across the room, heading for the bathroom. Jai-Alai seemed to be the only solace in his life anymore. All his anger and hurt could be taken out in the few hours a week he allowed himself to interact with other people.

In less than three months he was graduating, and then he would go to college somewhere far from the people he had stupidly allowed himself to get attached to. Already he had sent in applications all over Japan; but it was recently that he applied to certain colleges unknown to him in Europe and America. Perhaps distance was what he needed. He didn't know, but it was the only solution he could come up with in his raging fury. If she wanted distance, he would give her all the distance she could stomach. And then—

He stopped short in the doorway, the room still steamy from the last occupant, and stared at his reflection in the mirror across the room. He could scarcely grasp his own reality; only months ago he had been this miserable, this hopeless, this angry. He had wanted nothing more than to graduate and get as far from Satan City as possible. And then she had returned and suddenly he wished for nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her, wherever she may be. It didn't matter to him so long as he could see her smile and hold her against him. Now he was full circle again and he was sure the cycle would continue in this fashion for the rest of his life. But could he stand it?

He walked into the bathroom and shut and locked the door.

She would have all the distance she wanted, and then he would be gone.

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"What the hell is your problem!?" Goku snapped, jumping back to his feet, his cesta clenched to his chest. "I'm on your team, Vegeta!"

"You were in my way," he shot back, unsuccessfully wiping some mud from his face.

"Look, Vegeta." He lowered his voice and took a step forward. Vegeta took a disgusted step back. "I know you must be going through a lot right now, but that doesn't mean you can take it out on the people who care about you."

"Don't get mushy on me, Kakarot."

"Just shut up and listen to me."

Vegeta grimaced and looked away.

"She hasn't called any of us, and I know it must seem like she never will, and she'll just disappear like before." Vegeta rolled his eyes and nodded. "But I can't see her feeling the way she does about you, and having nothing standing in her way, and NOT come back! She loves you, Kami damn it, and only a fool would turn their back on something like that."

"Then I suppose we're both fools. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to finish the game I woke up so damn early to play." He turned sharply, and was about to run down the field into position, when he was yanked back, tumbling unceremoniously to the muddy ground. "What the fuck!"

"You don't mean that, Vegeta. I know you don't. You love her and you can't deny that to me."

"I never denied it," he hissed through his teeth. He clamored to his feet, throwing down his cesta. Goku saw immediately in his eyes that he meant to fight. "But you can't expect me to sit around and wait for whenever the hell she feels like having a relationship with me!"

"Stop lying to yourself!"

The first punch hurt a lot more than Goku had expected, and he returned it with just as much fury. By the time the rest of their team was able to tear them apart, they were covered equally in mud, blood, and bruises. The game was forfeited to the other team.

Mrs. Ouji didn't say a word to either boy when she picked them up. She dropped them off at Goku's without so much as asking what had happened. She already knew, and there was nothing she could say or do that could fix the situation.

Once they were inside, their wounds tended to by themselves, and sitting at the kitchen table with steaming mugs of coffee, Goku felt it was safe to talk.

"Are you going to listen to me now?" he asked, wincing at the hot liquid.

Vegeta took a long gulp of coffee, completely unaffected by its temperature, and then, very slowly, he nodded.

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"No one told me to come," she said to him, though he had not so much as looked at her since she arrived. "I decided it was the only thing that could help me…cope."

Silence across the table.

"I think I must have loved you once," she sighed, glancing quickly at him, and then back at her folded hands. "In the beginning. You were everything I thought I wanted, and when you were real in front of me, I guess I couldn't help myself and I got lost in it all—"

"What happened was in no way your fault," he said suddenly. She looked up, startled, her lips flinching. "And I do love you still, Bulma. I have always loved you, like I told you before, since the moment I saw you."

"But why did you hurt me, Takao?" Oh Kami! Why am I here! This was not a good idea!

"I honestly cannot say," he sighed, and for the first time she saw true remorse in his eyes. "My shrink tells me that it's because of my father. I was quote unquote traumatized by what he did to my mother that it never left me." He looked away, unable anymore to look at her. "Something like that," he said, with a small offhanded gesture. But she could see the anxiety he was feeling by just talking about it. He seemed in that moment as cold and heartless as Vegeta, but also as good-natured and pure. Kami did she need to lie down.

"But you hurt other women too," she whispered, leaning forward. She was about to touch his hands that rested on the table, when he snatched them back.

"They don't want anyone to touch me," he said. "They don't think I'm stable."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, "but you don't look stable."

"I know what I did was wrong," he said. "I know that I love you, and I love Aki, and I hate myself. I should never have survived that night. I—" His voice caught in his throat, and for the first time she saw tears flow down his cheeks. "I ruined your life, Bulma!" he cried, looking directly at her. "I ruined your life…"

"Anything can be fixed," she said, surprising herself with her words. Did she really believe that? Certainly not a moment ago, when he had been calm and disconnected. What was it about tears that brought out her worst judgment?

"I can't undo what I did to you Bulma, but I don't, under any circumstances, want you to forgive me."

She nodded slowly, for that's all she could think to do, and then looked down.

"I—" Should I say it? Where is the script for moments like this? "I never planned to forgive you, Takao, only to forget you…"

"But you can't?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" she laughed bitterly. Why did it still feel like she was trapped by him? He was handcuffed across the table and they were in a prison. She was finally safe from him, and yet her heart still wrenched with pain, as if she was not allowed to have the life she dreamed of. "Why did you take me away from my family?" She couldn't know where the question came from, only that she could not stop it, and wanted desperately to know.

"Because you wouldn't have married me if you were still at home," he sighed. "Kami, I'm psychotic."

"I don't think you belong here then."

"I don't qualify for the loony bin." He shrugged and glanced around. "I deserve to be here anyway. After, well, you know…"

"I still don't understand. I could have loved you the way you were. Why did you need to own me? You seemed like such a great person when I first met you." She was truly distraught inside. But it was best, for the moment, to remain calm. His tears could all be an act, like everything else, and then she didn't know what she would do.

"You never could have loved me," he said bluntly. "Not with Vegeta on your mind."

She cringed noticeably. How she hated that he knew his name.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"No, its ok. I just…I haven't talked to him since that day at the chapel."

"Why?" He looked genuinely concerned. Cautiously she proceeded. Do not fall into the trap!

"I needed to get myself back together. I didn't want him to see how broken I was; I refuse to put him through hell like that for my sake."

"But don't you think he's going through hell anyway without you?" Bulma's ears perked and she looked up at the man who had tortured her for so long. "Why not allow him to go through hell with you?"

"I—" She stumbled over her words, her fingers curling around the hem of her shirt, twisting it into a tight knot. "I can't answer that…"

"Bulma." She looked up, unable to choose an expression. "You said you wouldn't put him through hell for your sake." She nodded. It seemed that was all she was capable of doing. "But didn't you put yourself through hell with…with me for his sake?"

Kami! He was making so much sense! And yet…how could she face him?

"No, no…That was…different…"

"Different how? Bulma, you have to allow him to decide for himself what he needs. And I know you need him now…You're ashamed, aren't you?"

"Well who wouldn't be!" Suddenly she was completely angry with him again, and she stood, her chair crashing to the floor. "I let you do what you did to me, Takao! I allowed it to happen; it was all my fault! I should have been able to stop you, but I couldn't! I pushed away everyone I ever loved and for what!?" How red her face must have been. "I lost my life! Tell me you wouldn't be ashamed."

"Fear is nothing to be ashamed of," Takao said, as if he were trying to convince himself.

"Don't tell me how to feel Takao. You don't control me anymore."

"I wish I never had," he sighed.

"Fuck you, and shut the hell up." She grabbed the fallen chair, righted it, then went to the door. In a moment the officer would open it for her, and she would never have to look at Takao Daishi for the rest of her life. It frightened her that it was an uneasy thought, never seeing him again.

The door unlocked and swung open. She was almost out of the room, when he spoke up, stopping her completely.

"You're ready now, aren't you?" he asked. She turned back and looked into his eyes. And she realized all of a sudden that she was no longer afraid of this man. "You're ready to pick up your life, and you're ready to forget me, and to be with Vegeta."

"Yes, Takao," she said, smiling genuinely for the first time. "More than anything."

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"I didn't think you'd agree to see me," he said, picking at the blueberry muffin he'd been offered. It was so strange seeing her now after all that had happened. If only he had known sooner, if only he had caught it before anything had happened!

"I've learned to quell my emotions," she said sternly, still standing at the stove, waiting for the tea water to boil. "Besides, I don't hate you."

"You-You don't?" Kami, he was glad he hadn't taken a bite of that muffin or he would be choking right now. "But I—"

"I don't know why I was so short with you, Eizan. Maybe I just missed my old life, and I wanted to blame someone." She poured the water into two mugs and grabbed the box of tea bags, then took a seat across from him at the kitchen table. "I'm sorry."

"Kami, no," he all but gasped. He reached across the table and took her hands in his. "I'm sorry. I should never have—"

"No one knew how he was. I'm to blame as much as anyone."

"I—"

"But if it makes you feel better, I forgive you, if you can forgive my harshness."

"Oh Bulma," he sighed, leaning back. "You truly are one of a kind."

"I fired Yutaka," she said out of the blue. "And I need a new agent. I know that's not really your area of—"

"I would love to."

"Great." She took a long sip of tea, allowing its warmth to fill her and soothe her. "Now there's only one thing left to do."

"What?"

"Go back to Satan City…"

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---Chapter 16!! Damn you Bulma! Why did you ever break up with him! You're a fool! :P Wow, you weren't expecting all that, huh? :P I'm just full of crazy surprises!

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Next time: Satan City!! 


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